ff 


KECOLLECTIONS 


OF 


A  TOUR  MADE   IN   SCOTLAND 

A.D.    1803. 


RECOLLECTIONS 

OF  A 

TOUR  MADE  IN  SCOTLAND 

A.D.  1803 
BY  DOEOTHY  WOEDSWOETH. 


Edited  by  J.  C.  Shairp,  LL.D. 

Principal  of  the  United  College  of  St.  Salvator  and 
St.  Leonard,  St.  Andrews. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS, 

FOURTH  AVENUE  AND  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET, 

NEW  YOEK. 

1874. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE, 


Jirst 


DAT  .      1 

1.  Left     Keswick  —  Grisdale 

—  Mosedale  —  Hesket 
Newmarket  —  Caldbeck 
Falls,  .... 

2.  Rose   Castle  —  Carlisle— 

Hatfield — Longtown, 

3.  Solway  Moss — Enter  Scot- 

land — Springfield — Gret- 
na  Green — Annan — Dum- 
fries, .... 

4.  Burns's  Grave,  .        •  .-    ,• 
Ellisland— Vale  of  Nith,    . 
Brownhill, .... 
Poem  to  Burns's  Sons, 


PAGE 

ix 


5.  Thornhill  —  Drumlanrig — 

River  Nith,  ...  11 
Turnpike  house,  .  .  12 
Sportsman,  .  .  .13 
Vale  of  Menock,  .  .  14 
Wanlockhead,  .  .  .15 
Leadhills,  ....  18 
Miners,  .  .  .  .19 
Hopetoun  mansion,  .  .  20 
Hostess,  ....  20 

6.  Road  to  Crawfordjohn,       .    22 
Douglas  Mill,     ...    28 
Clyde— Lanerk,          .        :    31 
Boniton  Linn,    .        .        .33 


7.  Falls  of  the  Clyde,     .        .    35 
Cartland  Crags,  .        .    40 
Fall  of  Stonebyres— Trough 

of  the  Clyde,  ...  43 
Hamilton,  .  .  .  .44 

8.  Hamilton  House,       .        .    45 
Baroncleuch    —    Bothwell 

Castle,  ....  48 
Glasgow,  i  .  .  .52 

9.  Bleaching  ground  (Glasgow 

Green),  ....  53 
Road  to  Dumbarton, .  .  55 

10.  Rocks  and  Castle  of  Dum- 

barton, .  .  .  .58 
Vale  of  Leven,  .  .  .62 
Smollett's  Monument,  .  63 
Loch  Achray,  .  .  .64 
Luss, 67 

11.  Islands  of  Loch  Lomond,    .    71 


Road  to  Tarbet, .  .  .  75 
The  Cobbler,  ...  78 
Tarbet,  ....  79 

12.  Left  Tarbet  for  the  Trossachs,  81 
Rob  Roy's  Caves,       .        .    82 
Inversneyde       Ferryhouse 

and  Waterfall,  .  .  83 
Singular  building,  .  .  84 
Loch  Ketterine,  .  .  .86 
Glengyle,  ....  88 
Mr.  Macfarlane's,  .  .  89 

13.  Breakfast  at  Glengyle,       .    91 
Lairds  of  Glengyle  —  Rob 

Roy,  ....  92 
Burying-ground,  .  .  94 
Ferryman's  Hut,  .  .  95 
Trossachs, ....  96 
Loch  Achray,  .  .  .  101 
Return  to  Ferryman's  Hut,  102 


CONTENTS. 


DAY  PAGE 

14.  Left  Loch  Ketterine,  .        .  106 
Garrison  House — Highland 

Girls,  .  .  .  .107 
Ferryhouse  at  Inversneyde,  108 
Poem  to  the  Highland  Girl,  113 
Return  to  Tarbet,  .  .  115 

15.  Coleridge    resolves   to    go 

home,     ....  117 

Arrochar — Loch  Long,  .  118 

Parted  with  Coleridge,  .  119 

Glen  Croe— The  Cobbler,  .  121 

Glen  Kinglas— Cairndow,  .  123 

16.  Road  to  Inverary,       .  .  124 
Inverary,    .                .  .  126 

17.  Vale  of  Arey,             .  .  129 
Loch  Awe,                  .  .  134 
Kilchurn  Castle         .  .  138 
Dalmally,  .  .  139 

18.  Loch  Awe,                 .  .  141 
Taynuilt,   .  .  143 


DAY  PAGE 

Bunawe— Loch  Etive,         .  144 
Tinkers,     .        .        .        .149 

19.  Road  by  Loch  Etive  down- 

wards, .  .  .  .152 
Dunstaffnage  Castle,  .  .  153 
Loch  Crerar,  .  .  .156 
Strath  of  Appin — Portna- 

croish,  ....  158 
Islands  of  Loch  Linnhe,  .  159 
Morven,  ....  160 
Lord  Tweeddale,  .  .  161 
Strath  of  Duror,  .  .  163 
Ballachulish,  .  .  .164 

20.  Road  to  Glen  Coe  up  Loch 

Leven,    .        .  .  .165 

Blacksmith's  house,  .  .  166 

Glen  Coe,  .        .  .  .172 

Whisky  hovel,    .  .  .174 

King's  House,    .  .  .  175 


Jxmrth  SEeek. 


21.  Road  to  Inveroran,    .        .  180 
Inveroran — Public-house,  .  182 
Road  to  Tyndrum,      .        .183 
Tyndrum,  .        .        .        .184 
LochDochart,    .        .        .186 

22.  Killin,        .        .        .        .186 
LochTay,  .        .        .        .188 
Kenmore,   ....  189 

23.  Lord  Breadalbane's  grounds,  193 
Vale  of  Tay— Aberfeldy— 

Falls  of  Moness,  .  .  194 
River  Tummel  —  Vale  of 

Tummel,  .  .  .196 
Fascally— Blair,  .  .  197 

24.  Duke  of  Athole's  garden's,  198 
Falls  of  Bruar— Mountain- 
road  to  Loch  Tummel,   .  201 

Loch  Tummel,    .        .        .  203 


Rivers  Tummel  and  Garry,  204 
Fascally,  .  .  .  .205 

25.  Pass  of  Killicrankie— Son- 

net  207 

Fall  of  Tummel,  .  .  208 
Dunkeld,  .  .  .  .209 
Fall  of  the  Bran,  .  .  210 

26.  Duke  of  Athol's  gardens,      211 
Glen    of  the  Bran — Rum- 
bling Brig,      .        .        .212 

Narrow  Glen— Poem,  .  213 
Crieff,  .  .  .  .215 

27.  Strath  Erne,      .        .        .215 
Lord     Melville's     house — 

Loch  Erne  .  .  .  216 
Strath  Eyre— Loch  Lubnaig,  217 
Bruce  the  Traveller— Pass 

of  Leny— Callander,        .  218 


CONTENTS. 

yii 

Jifth  SBttk. 

DAY                                                                          PAGE 

DAY 

PAGE 

28.  Road  to  the    Trossachs— 

30.  Mountain  -  road    to    Loch 

Loch  Vennachar,     .        .  219 

Voil,       . 

235 

Loch  Achray  —  Trossachs  — 

Poem,       '  The       Solitary 

Road  up  Loch  Ketterine,  220 

Reaper,' 

237 

Poem  :     '  Stepping    West- 

Strath Eyer,       .        .        . 

239 

ward,'     .        .        .        .221 

31.  Loch  Lubnaig,    . 

240 

Boatman's  hut,           .        .  222 

Callander  —  Stirling  —  Fal- 

29.  Road  to  Loch  Lomond,      .  223 

kirk,       .        .        .        . 

241 

Ferryhouse  at  Inversneyde,  223 

32.  Linlithgow—  Road  to  Edin- 

Walk up  Loch  Lomond,      .  224 

burgh,     .... 

242 

Glenfallocb,        .        .        .226 

33.  Edinburgh, 

243 

Glengyle,    .        .        .        .228 

Roslin,        .... 

245 

Rob  Roy's  Grave—  Poem,  .  229 

34.  Roslin—  Hawthornden, 

246 

Boatman's  Hut,  .        .        .  233 

Road  to  Peebles, 

247 

§ixih 

35.  Peebles—  Neidpath  Castle- 

39.  Jedburgh—  The  Assizes,     . 

267 

Sonnet,           .        .        .248 

Vale  of  Teviot,  . 

268 

Tweed,        .        .        .        .249 

Hawick,      .... 

270 

Clovenford,        .        .        .251 

40.  Vale  of  Teviot  —  Branx- 

Poem  on  Yarrow,       .        .  252 

holm,       . 

270 

36.  Melrose—  Melrose  Abbey,  .  255 

Moss  Paul, 

271 

37.  Dryburgh,          .        .        .257 

Langholm,  .... 

272 

Jedburgh—  Old  Woman,    .  260 

41.  Road  to  Longtown,     . 

272 

Poem,         .        .        .        .262 

River  Esk—  Carlisle,  . 

273 

38.  Vale  of  Jed—  Ferniehurst,    265 

42.  Arrival  at  home, 

274 

APPENDIX,  • 

277 

NOTES,          

309 

ITINERARY,            .           .           .           . 

317 

POEMS  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  JOURNAL. 

1803. 

PAGE 

To  the  Sons  of  Bums,  after  visiting  the  Grave  of  their  Father,    .        277 
At  the  Grave  of  Burns,  1803,          .  .  .'         .  .        278 

Thoughts  suggested  the  day  following,  on  the  Banks  of  Nith,  near 

the  Poet's  Residence,  .  '  .  .  .        281 

To  a  Highland  Girl,  ....  .113 

Address  to  Kilchurn  Castle,  upon  Loch  Awe,        .  .        285 

Sonnet  in  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie,  ....        207 

Glen  Almain ;  or  The  Narrow  Glen,  .  .  .  .213 

The  Solitary  Reaper,  ......        237 

Stepping  Westward,  .  •        .  .  .  .  .        221 

Rob  Roy's  Grave,     .  .  .  .  .  .  .        229 

Sonnet  composed  at  Neidpath  Castle,         .  .  .  .        248 

Yarrow  Unvisited,    .  .  .  .  .  .  .252 

The  Matron  of  Jedborough  and  her  Husband,        .  .  .        262 

Fly,  some  kind  Spirit,  fly  to  Grasmere  Vale  !  274 

The  Blind  Highland  Boy,    ......        286 

1814. 

The  Brownie's  Cell,  .  .  .  .  .  .298 

Cora  Linn,  in  sight  of  Wallace's  Tower,      ....        283 

Effusion,  in  the  Pleasure-ground  on  the  banks  of  the  Bran,  near 

Dunkeld,       .  .  .  .  .  .  .294 

Yarrow  Visited,        .  .  .  .  .  .  .301 

1831. 
Yarrow  Re-visited,   .......        304 

On  the  Departure  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  from  Abbotsford,  for 

Naples,  .......        807 

The  Trossachs,          .  308 


PREFACE. 

THOSE  who  have  long  known  the  poetry  of  Wordsworth 
will  be  no  strangers  to  the  existence  of  this  Journal  of  his 
sister,  which  is  now  for  the  first  time  published  entire. 
They  will  have  by  heart  those  few  wonderful  sen- 
tences from  it  which  here  and  there  stand  at  the  head 
of  the  Poet's  'Memorials  of  a  Tour  in  Scotland  in  1803.' 
Especially  they  will  remember  that  '  Extract  from  the 
Journal  of  my  Companion '  which  preludes  the  '  Address  to 
Kilchurn  Castle  upon  Loch  Awe,'  and  they  may  sometimes 
have  asked  themselves  whether  the  prose  of  the  sister  is  not 
as  truly  poetic  and  as  memorable  as  her  brother's  verse. 
If  they  have  read  the  Memoirs  of  the  Poet  published  by  his 
nephew  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  they  will  have  found  there 
fuller  extracts  from  the  Journal,  which  quite  maintain 
the  impression  made  by  the  first  brief  sentences.  All  true 
Wordsworthians  then  will  welcome,  I  believe,  the  present 
publication.  They  will  find  in  it  not  only  new  and 
illustrative  light  on  those  Scottish  poems  which  they  have 
so  long  known,  but  a  faithful  commentary  on  the  character 
of  the  poet,  his  mode  of  life,  and  the  manner  of  his  poetry. 
Those  who  from  close  study  of  Wordsworth's  poetry  know 
both  the  poet  and  his  sister,  and  what  they  were  to  each 

b 


x  PREFACE. 

other,  will  need  nothing  more  than  the  Journal  itself.  If 
it  were  likely  to  fall  only  into  their  hands,  it  might  be  left 
without  one  word  of  comment  or  illustration.  But  as  it 
'may  reach  some  who  have  never  read  Wordsworth,  and 
others  who  having  read  do  not  relish  him,  for  the  in- 
formation of  these  something  more  must  be  said.  The 
Journal  now  published  does  not  borrow  all  its  worth  from 
its  bearing  on  the  great  poet.  It  has  merit  and  value  of  its 
own,  which  may  commend  it  to  some  who  have  no  heart 
for  Wordsworth's  poetry.  For  the  writer  of  it  was  in  herself 
no  common  woman,  and  might  have  secured  for  herself  an 
independent  reputation,  had  she  not  chosen  rather  that 
other  part,  to  forget  and  merge  herself  entirely  in  the 
work  and  reputation  of  her  brother. 

DOROTHY  WORDSWORTH  was  the  only  sister  of  the 
poet,  a  year  and  a  half  younger,  having  been  born  on 
Christmas  Day  1771.  The  five  children  who  composed 
the  family,  four  sons  and  one  daughter,  lost  their  mother  in 
1778,  when  William  was  eight,  and  Dorothy  six  years  old. 
The  father  died  five  years  afterwards,  at  the  close  of  1783, 
and  the  family  home  at  Cockermouth  was  broken  up  and 
the  children  scattered.  Before  his  father's  death,  William,  in 
his  ninth  year,  had  gone  with  his  elder  brother  to  school  at 
Hawkshead,  by  the  lake  of  Esthwaite,  and  after  the  father 
died  Dorothy  was  brought  up  by  a  cousin  on  her  mother's 
side,  Miss  Threlkeld,  afterwards  Mrs.  Rawson,  who  lived  in 
Halifax.  During  the  eight  years  which  Wordsworth  spent 


PREFACE.  xi 

at  school,  or,  at  any  rate,  from  the  time  of  his  father's  death, 
he  and  his  sister  seem  seldom,  if  ever,  to  have  met. 

The  first  college  vacation  in  the  summer  of  1788  brought 
him  back  to  his  old  school  in  the  vale  of  Esthwaite,  and 
either  this  or  the  next  of  his  undergraduate  summers 
restored  him  to  the  society  of  his  sister  at  Penrith.  This 
meeting  is  thus  described  in  the  '  Prelude  : ' — 

'  In  summer,  making  quest  for  works  of  art, 
Or  scenes  renowned  for  beauty,  I  explored 
That  streamlet  whose  blue  current  works  its  way 
Between  romantic  Dovedale's  spiry  rocks  ; 
Pried  into  Yorkshire  dales,  or  hidden  tracts 
Of  my  own  native  region,  and  was  blest 
Between  these  sundry  wanderings  with  a  joy 
Above  all  joys,  that  seemed  another  morn 
Risen  on  mid-noon  ;  blest  with  the  presence,  Friend  ! 
Of  that  sole  sister,  her  who  hath  been  long 
Dear  to  thee  also,  thy  true  friend  and  mine, 
Now,  after  separation  desolate 
Restored  to  me — such  absence  that  she  seemed 
A  gift  then  first  bestowed.' 

They  then  together  wandered  by  the  banks  of  Emont, 
among  the  woods  of  Lowther,  and  '  climbing  the  Border 
Beacon  looked  wistfully  towards  the  dim  regions  of  Scot- 
land.' Then  and  there  too  Wordsworth  first  met  that 
young  kinswoman  who  was  his  wife  to  be. 

During  the  following  summers  the  Poet  was  busy  with 
walking  tours  in  Switzerland  and  North  Italy,  his  resid- 
ence in  France,  his  absorption  in  the  French  Revolution, 
which  kept  him  some  years  longer  apart  from  his  sister. 


xii  PREFACE. 

During  those  years  Miss  Wordsworth  lived  much  with  her 
uncle  Dr.  Cookson,  who  was  a  canon  of  Windsor  and  a 
favourite  with  the  Court,  and  there  met  with  people  of 
more  learning  and  refinement,  but  not  of  greater  worth, 
than  those  she  had  left  in  her  northern  home. 

In  the  beginning  of  1794  Wordsworth,  returned  from  his 
wanderings,  came  to  visit  his  sister  at  Halifax,  his  head 
still  in  a  whirl  with  revolutionary  fervours.  He  was 
wandering  about  among  his  friends  with  no  certain  dwelling- 
place,  no  fixed  plan  of  life,  his  practical  purposes  and  his 
opinions,  political,  philosophical,  and  religious,  all  alike  at 
sea.  But  whatever  else  might  remain  unsettled,  the  bread- 
and-butter  question,  as  Coleridge  calls  it,  could  not.  The 
thought  of  orders,  for  which  his  friends  intended  him,  had 
been  abandoned ;  law  he  abominated  ;  writing  for  the  news- 
paper press  seemed  the  only  resource.  In  this  seething 
state  of  mind  he  sought  once  more  his  sister's  calming 
society,  and  the  two  travelled  together  on  foot  from  Kendal 
to  Grasmere,  from  Grasmere  to  Keswick,  '  through  the  most 
delightful  country  that  was  ever  seen.' 

Towards  the  close  of  this  year  (1794)  Wordsworth  would 
probably  have  gone  to  London  to  take  up  the  trade  of  a 
writer  for  the  newspapers.  From  this  however  he  was 
held  back  for  a  time  by  the  duty  of  nursing  his  friend 
Raisley  Calvert,  who  lay  dying  at  Penrith.  Early  in 
1795  the  young  man  died,  leaving  to  his  friend,  the  young 
Poet,  a  legacy  of  £900.  The  world  did  not  then  hold 
Wordsworth  for  a  poet,  and  had  received  with  coldness  his 


PREFACE.  xiii 

first  attempt,  '  Descriptive  Sketches  and  an  Evening  Walk,' 
published  two  years  before.  But  the  dying  youth  had 
seen  farther  than  the  world,  and  felt  convinced  that  his 
friend,  if  he  had  leisure  given  him  to  put  forth  his  powers, 
would  do  something  which  would  make  the  world  his 
debtor.  With  this  view  he  bequeathed  him  the  small  sum 
above  named.  And  seldom  has  such  a  bequest  borne 
ampler  fruit.  '  Upon  the  interest  of  the  £900,  £400  being 
laid  out  in  annuity,  with  £200  deducted  from  the  principal, 
and  £100  a  legacy  to  my  sister,  and  £100  more  which  "  The 
Lyrical  Ballads  "  have  brought  me,  my  sister  and  I  have 
contrived  to  live  seven  years,  nearly  eight.'  So  wrote 
Wordsworth  in  1805  to  his  friend  Sir  George  Beau- 
mont. Thus  at  this  juncture  of  the  Poet's  fate,  when  to 
onlookers  he  must  have  seemed  both  outwardly  and  in- 
wardly well-nigh  bankrupt,  Kaisley  Calvert's  bequest  came 
to  supply  his  material  needs,  and  to  his  inward  needs  his 
sister  became  the  best  earthly  minister.  For  his  mind  was 
ill  at  ease.  The  high  hopes  awakened  in  him  by  the  French 
Revolution  had  been  dashed,  and  his  spirit,  darkened  and 
depressed,  was  on  the  verge  of  despair.  He  might  have  be- 
come such  a  man  as  he  has  pictured  in  the  character  of 
'  The  Solitary.'  But  a  good  Providence  brought  his  sister 
to  his  side  and  saved  him.  She  discerned  his  real  need  and 
divined  the  remedy.  By  her  cheerful  society,  fine  tact,  and 
vivid  love  for  nature  she  turned  him,  depressed  and  be- 
wildered, alike  from  the  abstract  speculations  and  the  con- 
temporary politics  in  which  he  had  got  immersed,  and 


xiv  PREFACE. 

directed  his  thoughts  towards  truth  of  poetry,  and  the  face 
of  nature,  and  the  healing  that  for  him  lay  in  these. 

1  Then  it  was 

That  the  beloved  sister  in  whose  sight 
Those  days  were  passed — 
Maintained  for  me  a  saving  intercourse 
With  my  true  self  ;  for  though  bedimmed  and  changed 
Much,  as  it  seemed,  I  was  no  further  changed 
Thau  as  a  clouded  or  a  waning  moon  : 
She  whispered  still  that  brightness  would  return, 
She,  in  the  midst  of  all,  preserved  me  still 
A  Poet,  made  me  seek  beneath  that  name, 
And  that  alone,  my  office  upon  earth.' 

By  intercourse  with  her  and  wanderings  together  in 
delightful  places  of  his  native  country,  he  was  gradually 
led  back 

'  To  those  sweet  counsels  between  head  and  heart 
Whence  genuine  knowledge  grew.' 

The  brother  and  sister,  having  thus  cast  in  their  lots 
together,  settled  at  Eacedown  Lodge  in  Dorsetshire  in  the 
autumn  of  1795.  They  had  there  a  pleasant  house,  with  a 
good  garden,  and  around  them  charming  walks  and  a 
delightful  country  looking  out  on  the  distant  sea.  The 
place  was  very  retired,  with  little  or  no  society,  and  the  post 
only  once  a  week.  But  of  employment  there  was  no  lack. 
The  brother  now  settled  steadily  to  poetic  work;  the  sister 
engaged  in  household  duties  and  reading,  and  then  when 
work  was  over,  there  were  endless  walks  and  wanderings. 
Long  years  afterwards  Miss  Wordsworth  spoke  of  Racedown 


PREFACE.  xv 

as  the  place  she  looked  back  to  with  most  affection.     '  It 
was.'  she  said,  '  the  first  home  I  had.' 

The  poems  which  Wordsworth  there  composed  were  not 
among  his  best, — '  The  Borderers,'  '  Guilt  or  Sorrow,' 
and  others.  He  was  yet  only  groping  to  find  his  true 
subjects  and  his  own  proper  manner.  But  there  was  one 
piece  there  composed  which  will  stand  comparison  with 
any  tale  he  ever  wrote.  It  was  'The  Ruined  Cottage,' 
which,  under  the  title  of  the  'Story  of  Margaret,'  he 
afterwards  incorporated  in  the  first  Book  of  '  The 
Excursion.'  It  was  when  they  had  been  nearly  two  years 
at  Racedown  that  they  received  a  guest  who  was  destined 
to  exercise  more  influence  on  the  self-contained  Wordsworth 
than  any  other  man  ever  did.  This  was  S.  T.  Coleridge. 
One  can  imagine  how  he  would  talk,  interrupted  only  by 
their  mutually  reading  aloud  their  respective  Tragedies,  both 
of  which  are  now  well-nigh  forgotten,  and  by  Wordsworth 
reading  his  'Ruined  Cottage,'  which  is  not  forgotten. 
Miss  Wordsworth  describes  S.  T.  C.,  as  he  then  was,  in 
words  that  are  well  known.  And  he  describes  her  thus, 
in  words  less  known, — '  She  is  a  woman  indeed,  in  mind  I 
mean,  and  in  heart ;  for  her  person  is  such  that  if  you 
expected  to  see  a  pretty  woman,  you  would  think  her 
ordinary ;  if  you  expected  to  see  an  ordinary  woman  you 
would  think  her  pretty,  but  her  manners  are  simple, 
ardent,  impressive.  In  every  motion  her  innocent  soul 
out-beams  so  brightly,  that  who  saw  her  would  say,  "  Guilt 
was  a  thing  impossible  with  her."  Her  information  various, 


xvi  PREFACE. 

her  eye  watchful  in  minutest  observation  of  nature,  and 
her  taste  a  perfect  electrometer.' 

The  result  of  this  meeting  of  the  two  poets  was  that 
the  Wordsworths  shifted  their  abode  from  Racedown  to 
Alfoxden,  near  Nether  Stowey,  in  Somersetshire,  to  be 
near  Coleridge.  Alfoxden  was  a  large  furnished  mansion, 
which  the  brother  and  sister  had  to  themselves.  '  We  are 
three  miles  from  Stowey,'  the  then  abode  of  Coleridge, 
writes  the  sister,  '  and  two  miles  from  the  sea.  Wherever 
we  turn  we  have  woods,  smooth  downs,  and  valleys,  with 
small  brooks  running  down  them,  through  green  meadows, 
hardly  ever  intersected  with  hedgerows,  but  scattered  over 
with  trees.  The  hills  that  cradle  these  valleys  are  either 
covered  with  fern  and  bilberries,  or  oak  woods,  which 
are  cut  for  charcoal.  Walks  extend  for  miles  over  the 
hill-tops,  the  great  beauty  of  which  is  their  wild  sim- 
plicity— they  are  perfectly  smooth,  without  rocks.'  It 
was  in  this  neighbourhood,  as  the  two  poets  loitered  in  the 
silvan  combs  or  walked  along  the  smooth  Quantock  hill- 
tops, looking  seaward,  with  the  '  sole  sister,'  the  companion 
of  their  walks,  that  they  struck  each  from  the  other  his  finest 
tones.  It  was  with  both  of  them  the  heyday  of  poetic 
creation.  In  these  walks  it  was  that  Coleridge,  with  slight 
hints  from  Wordsworth,  first  chaunted  the  vision  of  the 
Ancient  Mariner,  and  then  alone,  *  The  rueful  woes  of  Lady 
Christabel.'  This,  too,  was  the  birthday  of  some  of  the 
finest  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads,  of  '  We  are  Seven,'  '  Simon 
Lee,'  '  Expostulation  and  Reply,'  and  « The  Tables  Turned,' 


PREFACE.  xvii 

'  It  is  the  first  mild  day  in  March,'  and  '  I  heard  a  thousand 
blended  notes.'  Coleridge  never  knew  again  such  a  season 
of  poetic  creation,  and  Wordsworth's  tardier,  if  stronger, 
nature,  received  from  contact  with  Coleridge  that  quicken- 
ing impulse  which  it  needed,  and  which  it  retained  during 
all  its  most  creative  years. 

But  if  Coleridge,  with  his  occasional  intercourse  and 
wonderful  talk,  did  much  for  Wordsworth,  his  sister,  by 
her  continual  companionship,  did  far  more.  After  the 
great  revulsion  from  the  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution, 
she  was  with  him  a  continually  sanative  influence.  That 
whole  period,  which  ranged  from  1795  till  his  settling  at 
Grasmere  at  the  opening  of  the  next  century,  and  of  which 
the  residence  at  Racedown  and  Alfoxden  formed  a  large 
part,  was  the  healing  time  of  his  spirit.  And  in  that  heal- 
ing time  she  was  the  chief  human  minister.  Somewhere 
in  the  '  Prelude '  he  tells  that  in  early  youth  there  was  a  too 
great  sternness  of  spirit  about  him,  a  high  but  too  severe 
moral  ideal  by  which  he  judged  men  and  things,  insensible 
to  gentler  and  humbler  influences.  He  compares  his  soul 
to  a  high,  bare  craig,  without  any  crannies  in  which 
flowers  may  lurk,  untouched  by  the  mellowing  influences 
of  sun  and  shower.  His  sister  came  with  her  softening 
influence,  and  sowed  in  it  the  needed  flowers,  and  touched 
it  with  mellowing  colours. 

'  She  gave  me  eyes,  she  gave  me  ears, 

And  humble  cares  and  delicate  fears, 

A  heart,  the  fountain  of  sweet  tears 

And  love,  and  thought  and  joy.' 


xviii  PREFACE. 

Elsewhere  in  the '  Prelude '  he  describes  how  at  one  time 
his  soul  had  got  too  much  under  the  dominion  of  the  eye, 
so  that  he  kept  comparing  scene  with  scene,  instead  of 
enjoying  each  for  itself — craving  new  forms,  novelties  of 
colour  or  proportion,  and  insensible  to  the  spirit  of  each 
place  and  the  affections  which  each  awakens.  In  contrast 
with  this  temporary  mood  of  his  own  he  turns  to  one  of 

another  temper : — 

'  I  knew  a  maid, 

A  youug  enthusiast  who  escaped  these  bonds, 
Her  eye  was  not  the  mistress  of  her  heart, 
She  welcomed  what  was  given,  and  craved  no  more  ; 
Whate'er  the  scene  presented  to  her  view, 
That  was  the  best,  to  that  she  was  attuned 
By  her  benign  simplicity  of  life. 
Birds  in  the  bower,  and  lambs  in  the  green  field. 
Could  they  have  known  her,  would  have  loved  ;  methought 
Her  very  presence  such  a  sweetness  breathed, 
That  flowers,  and  trees,  and  even  the  silent  hills, 
And  everything  she  looked  on,  should  have  had 
An  intimation  how  she  bore  herself 
Towards  them  and  to  all  creatures.     God  delights 
In  such  a  being ;  for  her  common  thoughts 
Are  piety,  her  life  is  gratitude.' 

But  it  was  not  his  sister  the  Poet  speaks  of  here,  but  of 
his  first  meeting  with  her  who  afterwards  became  his  wife. 

The  results  of  the  residence  at  Racedown,  but  especially 
at  Alfoxden,  appeared  in  the  shape  of  the  first  volume  of 
the  '  Lyrical  Ballads,'  which  were  published  in  the  autumn 
of  1798  by  Mr.  Cottle  at  Bristol.  This  small  volume 
opens  with  Coleridge's  'Rime  of  the  Ancyent  Marinere,' 
and  is  followed  by  Wordsworth's  short  but  exquisite  poems 


PREFACE.  xix 

of  the  Alfoxden  time,  and  is  closed  by  the  well-known 
lines  on  Tintern  Abbey.  Wordsworth  reaches  about  the 
highest  pitch  of  his  inspiration  in  this  latter  poem,  which 
contains  more  rememberable  lines  than  any  other  of  his, 
of  equal  length,  save  perhaps  the  Immortality  Ode.  It 
was  the  result  of  a  ramble  of  four  or  five  days  made  by 
him  and  his  sister  from  Alfoxden  in  July  1798,  and  was 
composed  under  circumstances  'most  pleasant,'  he  says, 
'  for  me  to  remember.'  He  began  it  upon  leaving  Tintern, 
after  crossing  the  Wye,  and  concluded  it  as  he  was  entering 
Bristol  in  the  evening. 

Every  one  will  recollect  how,  after  its  high  reflections 
he  turns  at  the  close  to  her,  'his  dearest  Friend,'  'his 
dear,  dear  Friend,'  and  speaks  of  his  delight  to  have  her  by 
his  side,  and  of  the  former  pleasures  which  he  read  in  '  the 
shooting  lights  of  her  wild  eyes,'  and  then  the  almost 
prophetic  words  with  which  he  forebodes,  too  surely, 
that  time  when  '  solitude,  or  fear,  or  pain,  or  grief  should 
be  her  portion.' 

That  September  (1798)  saw  the  break-up  of  the  brief, 
bright  companionship  near  Nether  Stowey.  Coleridge  went 
with  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  to  Germany,  but  soon 
parted  from  them  and  passed  on  alone  to  Gottingen, 
there  to  study  German,  and  lose  himself  in  the  labyrinth 
of  German  metaphysics.  Wordsworth  and  Dorothy  re- 
mained at  Goslar,  and,  making  no  acquaintances,  spent 
the  winter — said  to  have  been  the  coldest  of  the  century 
— by  the  German  stoves,  Wordsworth  writing  more 


xx  PREFACE. 

lyrical  poems  in  the  same  vein  which  had  been  opened 
so  happily  at  Alfoxden.  There  is  in  these  poems  no 
tincture  of  their  German  surroundings,  they  deal  entirely 
with  those  which  they  had  left  on  English  ground.  Early 
in  spring  they  returned  to  England,  to  spend  the  summer 
with  their  friends  the  Hutchinsons  at  Sockburn-upon-Tees. 
There  Dorothy  remained,  while  in  September  Wordsworth 
made  with  Coleridge  the  walking  tour  through  the  lakes  of 
Westmoreland  and  Cumberland,  which  issued  in  his  choice 
of  a  home  at  Grasmere  for  himself  and  his  sister. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  Wordsworth  and  his  Sister  set 
off  and  walked,  driven  forward  by  the  cold,  frosty  winds 
blowing  from  behind,  from  Wensleydale  over  Sedbergh's 
naked  heights  and  the  high  range  that  divides  the  Yorkshire 
dales  from  the  lake  country.  On  the  shortest  day  of  the 
year  (St.  Thomas's  Day)  they  reached  the  small  two-story 
cottage  at  the  Townend  of  Grasmere,  which,  for  the  next 
eight  years,  was  to  be  the  poet's  home,  immortalized  by 
the  work  he  did  in  it.  That  cottage  has  behind  it  a  small 
orchard-plot  or  garden  ground  shelving  upwards  toward  the 
woody  mountains  above,  and  in  front  it  looks  across  the 
peaceful  lake  with  its  one  green  island,  to  the  steeps 
of  Silver-how  on  the  farther  side.  Westward  it  looks 
on  Helm  Craig,  and  up  the  long  folds  of  Easedale 
towards  the  range  that  divides  Easedale  from  Borrow- 
dale.  In  this  cottage  they  two  lived  on  their  income 
of  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  Dorothy  doing  all  the 
household  work,  for  they  had  then,  it  has  been  said, 


PREFACE.  xxi 

no  servant.  Besides  this,  she  had  time  to  write  out 
all  his  poems — for  Wordsworth  himself  could  never  bear 
the  strain  of  transcribing — to  read  aloud  to  him  of  an 
afternoon  or  evening — at  one  such  reading  by  her  of 
Milton's  Sonnets  it  was  that  his  soul  took  fire  and  rolled 
off  his  first  sonnets — and  to  accompany  him  on  his  endless 
walks.  Nor  these  alone — her  eye  and  imagination  fed 
him,  not  only  with  subjects  for  his  poetry,  but  even  with 
images  and  thoughts.  What  we  are  told  of  the  poem  of 
the  '  Beggars '  might  be  said  of  I  know  not  how  many  more. 
'  The  sister's  eye  was  ever  on  the  watch  to  provide  for  the 
poet's  pen.'  He  had  a  most  observant  eye,  and  she  also 
for  him;  and  his  poems  are  sometimes  little  more  than 
poetic  versions  of  her  descriptions  of  the  objects  which 
she  had  seen ;  and  which  he  treated  as  seen  by  himself. 
Look  at  the  poem  on  the  '  Daffodils '  and  compare  with  it 
these  words  taken  from  the  sister's  Journal.  '  When  we 
were  in  the  woods  below  Gowbarrow  Park,  we  saw  a  few 
daffodils  close  by  the  water  side.  As  we  went  along  there 
were  more  and  yet  more  ;  and  at  last,  under  the  boughs  of 
the  trees,  we  saw  there  were  a  long  belt  of  them  along  the 
shore.  I  never  saw  daffodils  so  beautiful.  They  grew 
among  the  mossy  stones  about  them.  Some  rested  their 
heads  on  the  stones,  as  on  a  pillow ;  the  rest  tossed,  and 
reeled,  and  danced,  and  seemed  as  if  they  verily  laughed 
with  the  wind,  they  looked  so  gay  and  glancing.'  It  may 
also  be  noted  that  the  Poet's  future  wife  contributed  to 
this  poem  these  two  best  lines — 


xxii  PREFACE. 

'  They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye, 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude.' 

Or  take  another  description  from  Miss  Wordsworth's 
Journal  of  a  birch-tree,  '  the  lady  of  the  woods,'  which  her 
brother  has  not  versified  : — *  As  we  were  going  along  we 
were  stopped  at  once,  at  the  distance,  perhaps,  of  fifty 
yards  from  our  favourite  birch-tree  :  it  was  yielding  to  the 
gust  of  the  wind,  with  all  its  tender  twigs ;  the  sun  shone 
upon  it,  and  it  glanced  in  the  wind  like  a  flying  sunshiny 
shower.  It  was  a  tree  in  shape,  with  stem  and  branches, 
but  it  was  like  a  spirit  of  water.' 

The  life  which  the  Poet  and  his  sister  lived  during  the 
eight  years  at  the  Townend  of  Grasmere  stands  out  with 
a  marked  individuality  which  it  is  delightful  ever  so 
often  to  recur  to.  It  was  as  unlike  the  lives  of  most 
literary  or  other  men,  as  the  most  original  of  his  poems  are 
unlike  the  ordinary  run  of  even  good  poetry.  Their 
outward  life  was  exactly  like  that  of  the  dalesmen  or 
'statesmen' — for  so  the  native  yeomen  proprietors  are 
called — with  whom  they  lived  on  the  most  friendly 
footing,  and  among  whom  they  found  their  chief  society. 
Outwardly  their  life  was  so,  but  inwardly  it  was  cheered 
by  imaginative  visitings  to  which  these  were  strangers. 
Sheltered  as  they  then  were  from  the  agitations  of  the 
world,  the  severe  frugality  of  the  life  they  led  ministered 
in  more  than  one  way  to  feed  that  poetry  which  in- 
troduced a  new  element  into  English  thought.  It  kept 
the  mind  cool,  and  the  eye  clear,  to  feel  once  more  that 


PREFACE.  xxiii 

kinship  between  the  outward  world  and  the  soul  of  man, 
to  perceive  that  impassioned  expression  in  the  countenance 
of  all  nature,  which,  if  felt  by  primeval  men,  ages 
of  cultivation  have  long  forgotten.  It  also  made  them 
wise  to  practise  the  same  frugality  in  emotional  enjoyment 
which  they  exercised  in  household  economy.  It  has  been 
well  noted*  that  this  is  one  of  Wordsworth's  chief  charac- 
teristics. It  is  the  temptation  of  the  poetic  temperament 
to  be  prodigal  of  passion,  to  demand  a  life  always  strung 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  emotional  excitement,  to  be  never 
content  unless  when  passing  from  fervour  to  fervour.  No 
life  can  long  endure  this  strain.  This  is  specially  seen 
in  such  poets  as  Byron  and  Shelley,  who  speedily  fell 
from  the  heights  of  passion  to  the  depths  of  languor  and 
despondency.  The  same  quick  using  up  of  the  power 
of  enjoyment  produces  the  too  common  product  of  the 
Uasd  man  and  the  cynic.  Wordsworth  early  perceived 
that  all,  even  the  richest,  natures  have  but  a  very  limited 
capacity  of  uninterrupted  enjoyment,  and  that  nothing  is 
easier  than  to  exhaust  this  capacity.  Hence  he  set  himself 
to  husband  it,  to  draw  upon  it  sparingly,  to  employ  it  only 
on  the  purest,  most  natural,  and  most  enduring  objects,  and 
not  to  speedily  dismiss  or  throw  them  by  and  demand 
more,  but  to  detain  them  till  they  had  yielded  him  their 
utmost.  From  this  in  part  it  came  that  the  commonest 
sights  of  earth  and  sky — a  fine  spring  day,  a  sunset,  even 
a  chance  traveller  met  on  a  moor,  any  ordinary  sorrow  of 
*  See  Essays  of  R.  H.  Hutton,  Esq.,  vol.  ii. 


xxiv  PREFACE. 

man's  life — yielded  to  him  an  amount  of  imaginative  in- 
terest inconceivable  to  more  mundane  spirits.  The  simple 
healthiness  and  strict  frugality  of  his  household  life 
suited  well,  and  must  have  greatly  assisted  that  wholesome 
frugality  of  emotion  which  he  exercised. 

During  those  seven  or  eight  Grasmere  years,  the  spring 
of  poetry  which  burst  forth  at  Alfoxden,  and  produced  the 
first  volume  of  '  Lyrical  Ballads,"  flowed  steadily  on  and 
found  expression  in  other  poems  of  like  quality  and  spirit, — 
'Hartleap  Well/  'The  Brothers.,'  'Michael,'  which,  with 
others  of  the  same  order,  written  in  Germany,  appeared  in 
the  second  volume  of  '  Lyrical  Ballads.'  And  after  these 
two  volumes  had  gone  forth,  Grasmere  still  gave  more  of 
the  same  high  order, — '  The  Daffodils,'  'The  Leech-Gatherer,' 
and  above  all  the  '  Ode  on  Immortality.'  It  saw  too  the 
conclusion  of  the  '  Prelude,'  and  the  beginning  of  the 
'  Excursion.'  So  that  it  may  be  said  that  those  Grasmere 
years,  from  1800  to  1807,  mark  the  period  when  Words- 
worth's genius  was  in  its  zenith.  During  all  this  time, 
sister  Dorothy  was  by  his  side,  ministering  to  him,  equally 
in  body  and  in  mind — doing  the  part  of  household  servant, 
and  not  less  that  of  prompter  and  inspirer  of  his  highest 
songs. 

But  this  life  of  theirs,  retired  and  uneventful  as  it  seems, 
was  not  without  its  own  incidents.  Such  was  the  home- 
coming of  their  younger  sailor-brother  John,  who,  in  the 
first  year  of  their  residence  at  Grasmere — 

'  Under  their  cottage  roof,  had  gladly  come 
From  the  wild  sea  a  cherished  visitant.' 


PREFACE.  xxv 

He  was,  what  his  brother  calls  him,  '  a  silent  poet/  and 
had  the  heart  and  sense  to  feel  the  sterling  quality  of  his 
brother's  poems,  and  to  foretell  with  perfect  confidence 
their  ultimate  acceptance,  at  the  time  when  the  critic  wits 
who  ruled  the  hour  treated  them  with  contempt.  The 
two  brothers  were  congenial  spirits,  and  William's  poetry 
has  many  affecting  allusions  to  his  brother  John,  whose 
intention  it  was,  when  his  last  voyage  was  over,  to  settle 
in  '  Grasmere's  happy  vale,'  and  to  devote  the  surplus  of  his 
fortune  to  his  brother's  use.  On  his  last  voyage  he  sailed 
as  captain  of  the  'Earl  of  Abergavenny'  East-Indiaman, 
at  the  opening  of  February  1805  ;  and  on  the  5th  of  that 
month,  the  ill-fated  ship  struck  on  the  Shambles  of  the  Bill 
of  Portland,  and  the  captain  and  most  of  the  crew  went 
down  with  her.  To  the  brother  and  sister  this  became  a 
permanent  household  sorrow.  But  in  time  they  found 
comfort  in  that  thought  with  which  the  Poet  closes  a  re- 
markable letter  on  his  brother's  loss, — *  So  good  must  be 
better ;  so  high  must  be  destined  to  be  higher.' 

Another  lesser  incident  was  a  short  tour  to  the  Continent, 
in  which,  as  the  brother  and  sister  crossed  Westminster 
Bridge,  outside  the  Dover  coach,  both  witnessed  that  sun- 
rise which  remains  fixed  for  ever  in  the  famous  sonnet. 
Another  incident,  and  more  important,  was  Wordsworth's 
marriage  in  October  1802,  when  he  brought  home  his 
young  wife,  Mary  Hutchinson,  his  sister's  long-time  friend, 
to  their  cottage  at  Townend.  This  is  she  whom  he  has 
sung  in  the  lines — 'She  was  a  phantom  of  delight;'  of 

c 


xxvi  PREFACE. 

whom  he  said  in  plain  prose,  '  She  has  a  sweetness  all 
but  angelic,  simplicity  the  most  entire,  womanly  self- 
respect  and  purity  of  heart  speaking  through  all  her  looks, 
acts,  and  movements.'  The  advent  of  Mrs.  Wordsworth 
brought  no  change  to  Dorothy.  She  still  continued  to  fill 
to  her  brother  and  his  wife  the  same  place  which  she  had 
filled  when  her  brother  was  alone,  sharing  in  all  the  house- 
hold duties  and  family  interests,  and  still  accompanying 
him  in  his  rambles  when  Mrs.  Wordsworth  was  detained 
at  home.  The  year  after  the  marriage,  that  is,  in  the 
fourth  year  of  the  Grasmere  residence,  after  the  first  son 
was  born,  the  brother  and  sister,  accompanied  by  Coleridge, 
set  out  on  that  tour  the  Journal  of  which  is  here  published. 
Portions  of  it  have  already  appeared  in  the  'Memoirs'  of 
Wordsworth,  but  it  is  now  for  the  first  time  given  in  full, 
just  as  it  came  from  the  pen  of  Miss  Wordsworth,  seventy 
years  ago.  As  I  shall  have  to  speak  of  it  again,  I  may  now 
pass  on  and  note  the  few  facts  that  still  remain  to  be  told 
in  illustration  of  the  writer's  character. 

In  the  years  which  followed  the  tour  in  Scotland,  other 
children  were  added  to  Wordsworth's  family,  till  the  small 
cottage  at  the  Townend  could  no  longer  accommodate  the 
household.  The  second  child  was  the  poet's  only  daughter, 
whom  after  his  sister  he  called  Dorothy,  generally  known 
as  Dora,  for,  as  he  tells  Lady  Beaumont,  he  could  not  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  call  her  by  another  name.  This  second 
Dora  occupies  in  Wordsworth's  later  poetry  the  same 
place  which  the  first  Dorothy  held  in  his  earlier.  Aunt 


PREFACE.  xxvii 

Dorothy's  love,  as  it  expanded  to  take  in  each  new 
comer,  did  not  lose  any  of  its  intensity  towards  her 
brother.  While  the  uneasiness  which  the  act  of  writing 
had  always  occasioned  him  was  not  diminished,  weakness 
of  eyesight  increased.  Then  she  had  to  write  for  him,  she 
read  to  him,  she  walked  with  him  as  of  old,  besides  sharing 
in  all  household  cares.  In  November  1806,  Wordsworth 
removed  with  his  family  to  Coleorton,  in  Leicestershire,  to 
spend  the  winter  there  in  a  house  of  Sir  George  Beaumont's ; 
'  Our  own  cottage,'  he  writes,  '  being  far  too  small  for  our 
family  to  winter  in,  though  we  manage  well  enough  in  it 
during  the  summer.'  In  the  spring  of  1807,  Wordsworth 
and  his  wife  visited  London.  Dorothy,  who  was  left  with 
the  children,  wrote  the  poem  called  '  The  Mother's  Eeturn,' 
as  a  welcome  to  Mrs.  Wordsworth  when  she  came  back. 
This  with  two  other  poems,  written  by  her  for  the  children, 
one  on  '  The  Wind,'  the  other  called  '  The  Cottager  to  her 
Infant,'  afterwards  appeared  in  an  edition  of  her  brother's 
poems. 

This  seems  the  proper  place  to  give  the  account  of  Miss 
Wordsworth,  as  she  appeared  to  De  Quincey,  when  in  1807 
he  first  made  the  acquaintance  of  Wordsworth,  just  before 
the  Poet  and  his  family  quitted  their  old  home  in  the 
cottage  at  Grasmere  Townend.  After  speaking  of  Mrs. 
Wordsworth,  he  continues  : — 

'  Immediately  behind  her  moved  a  lady,  shorter,  slighter, 
and  perhaps,  in  all  other  respects,  as  different  from  her  in 
personal  characteristics  as  could  have  been  wished  for  the 


xxviii  PREFACE. 

most  effective  contrast.  "  Her  face  was  of  Egyptian 
brown;"  rarely,  in  a  woman  of  English  birth,  had  I  seen  a 
more  determinate  gipsy  tan.  Her  eyes  were  not  soft  as 
Mrs.  Wordsworth's,  nor  were  they  fierce  or  bold ;  but  they 
were  wild  and  startling,  and  hurried  in  their  motion. 
Her  manner  was  warm,  and  even  ardent ;  her  sensibility 
seemed  constitutionally  deep ;  and  some  subtle  fire  of 
impassioned  intellect  apparently  burned  within  her,  which 
— being  alternately  pushed  forward  into  a  conspicuous 
expression  by  the  irresistible  instincts  of  her  temperament, 
and  then  immediately  checked  in  obedience  to  the  decorum 
of  her  sex  and  age  and  her  maidenly  condition — gave  to 
her  whole  demeanour,  and  to  her  conversation,  an  air  of 
embarrassment,  and  even  of  self-conflict,  that  was  almost 
distressing  to  witness.  Even  her  very  utterance  and 
enunciation  often  suffered  in  point  of  clearness  and  steadi- 
ness, from  the  agitation  of  her  excessive  organic  sensibility. 
At  times  the  self  counteraction  and  self-baffling  of  her 
feelings  caused  her  even  to  stammer.  But  the  greatest 
deductions  from  Miss  Wordsworth's  attractions,  and  from 
the  exceeding  interest  which  surrounded  her,  in  right  of 
her  character,  of  her  history,  and  of  the  relation  which  she 
fulfilled  towards  her  brother,  were  the  glancing  quickness 
of  her  motions,  and  other  circumstances  in  her  deportment 
(such  as  her  stooping  attitude  when  walking),  which  gave 
an  ungraceful  character  to  her  appearance  when  out  of 
doors.  .  .  . 

'  Her  knowledge  of  literature  was  irregular  and  thoroughly 


PREFACE,  xxix 

unsystematic.  She  was  content  to  be  ignorant  of  many 
things  ;  but  what  she  knew,  and  had  really  mastered,  lay 
where  it  could  not  be  disturbed — in  the  temple  of  her  own 
most  fervid  heart.' 

It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  add  from  the  same  gossipy 
but  graphic  pen,  a  description  of  the  Townend  home,  and 
of  the  way  of  life  there,  which  has  often  before  been 
quoted  : — 

'  A  little  semi-vestibule  between  two  doors  prefaced 
the  entrance  into  what  might  be  considered  the  principal 
room  of  the  cottage.  It  was  an  oblong  square,  not  above 
eight  and  a  half  feet  high,  sixteen  feet  long,  and  twelve 
broad ;  very  prettily  wainscoted  from  the  floor  to  the 
ceiling  with  dark  polished  oak,  slightly  embellished  with 
carving.  One  window  there  was — a  perfect  and  unpre- 
tending cottage  window — with  little  diamond  panes, 
embowered  at  almost  every  season  of  the  year  with  roses, 
and,  in  the  summer  and  autumn,  with  a  profusion  of 
jasmine  and  other  fragrant  shrubs.  From  the  exuberant 
luxuriance  of  the  vegetation  around  it,  this  window, 
though  tolerably  large,  did  not  furnish  a  very  powerful 
light  to  one  who  entered  from  the  open  air.  ...  I  was 
ushered  up  a  little  flight  of  stairs,  fourteen  in  all,  to  a 
little  drawing-room,  or  whatever  the  reader  chooses  to 
call  it.  Wordsworth  himself  has  described  the  fire-place 
of  this  room  as  his 

"  Half  kitchen,  and  half  parlour  fire." 
It  was  not  fully  seven  feet  six  inches  high,  and  in  other 


xxx  PREFACE. 

respects  pretty  nearly  of  the  same  dimensions  as  the  rustic 
hall  below.  There  was,  however,  in  a  small  recess,  a 
library  of  perhaps  three  hundred  volumes,  which  seemed 
to  consecrate  this  room  as  the  poet's  study  and  composing- 
room,  and  such  occasionally  it  was. 

*  About  four  o'clock  it  might  be  when  we  arrived.  At 
that  hour  in  November  the  daylight  soon  declined,  and 
in  an  hour  and  a  half  we  were  all  collected  about  the  tea- 
table. 

'This  with  the  Wordsworths,  under  the  simple  rustic 
system  of  habits  which  they  cherished  then  and  for  twenty 
years  after,  was  the  most  delightful  meal  of  the  day,  just 
as  dinner  is  in  great  cities,  and  for  the  same  reason, 
because  it  was  prolonged  into  a  meal  of  leisure  and  con- 
versation. That  night  I  found  myself,  about  eleven  at 
night,  in  a  pretty  bedroom,  about  fourteen  feet  by  twelve. 
Much  I  feared  that  this  might  turn  out  the  best  room  in 
the  house ;  and  it  illustrates  the  hospitality  of  my  new 
friends  to  mention  that  it  was.  .  .  . 

'Next  morning  Miss  Wordsworth  I  found  making 
breakfast  in  the  little  sitting-room.  No  one  was  there,  no 
glittering  breakfast  service ;  a  kettle  boiled  upon  the  fire  ; 
and  everything  was  in  harmony  with  these  unpretending 
arrangements. 

'  I  rarely  had  seen  so  humble  a  manage ;  and,  contrasting 
the  dignity  of  the  man  with  this  honourable  poverty,  and 
this  courageous  avowal  of  it,  his  utter  absence  of  all  effort 
to  disguise  the  simple  truth  of  the  case,  I  felt  my  admira- 
tion increased. 


PREFACE.  xxzi 

'  Throughout  the  day,  which  was  rainy,  the  same  style 
of  modest  hospitality  prevailed.  Wordsworth  and  his 
sister,  myself  being  of  the  party,  walked  out  in  spite  of  the 
rain,  and  made  the  circuit  of  the  two  lakes,  Grasmere  and 
its  dependency  Rydal,  a  walk  of  about  six  miles. 

'  On  the  third  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Grasmere,  I 
found  the  whole  family,  except  the  two  children,  prepared 
for  the  expedition  across  the  mountains.  I  had  heard  of 
no  horses,  and  took  it  for  granted  that  we  were  to  walk ; 
however,  at  the  moment  of  starting,  a  cart,  the  common 
farmer's  cart  of  the  country,  made  its  appearance,  and  the 
driver  was  a  bonny  young  woman  of  the  vale.  Accord- 
ingly we  were  all  carted  along  to  the  little  town  or  large 
village  of  Ambleside,  three  and  a  half  miles  distant.  Our 
style  of  travelling  occasioned  no  astonishment;  on  the 
contrary,  we  met  a  smiling  salutation  wherever  we  ap- 
peared; Miss  Wordsworth  being,  as  I  observed,  the 
person  most  familiarly  known  of  our  party,  and  the  one 
who  took  upon  herself  the  whole  expenses  of  the  flying 
colloquies  exchanged  with  stragglers  on  the  road.' 

When  the  family  had  to  leave  this  cottage  home  at 
Townend,  they  migrated  to  Allan  Bank  in  1808,  and  there 
remained  for  three  years.  In  the  spring  of  1811  they 
moved  to  the  Parsonage  of  Grasmere,  and  thence,  in  the 
spring  of  1813,  to  Rydal  Mount,  their  final  abode.  Their 
sojourn  in  the  Parsonage  was  saddened  by  the  loss  of  two 
children,  who  died  within  six  months  of  each  other,  and 
were  laid  side  by  side  in  the  churchyard  of  Grasmere. 
The  Parsonage  looks  right  across  the  road  on  that  burial- 


xxxii  PREFACE. 

place,  and  the  continual  sight  of  this  was  more  than 
they  could  bear.  They  were  glad  therefore  to  withdraw 
from  it,  and  to  exchange  the  vale  of  Grasmere,  now  filled 
for  them  with  too  mournful  recollections,  for  the  sweet 
retirement  of  Kydal. 

Through  all  these  changes  sister  Dorothy  went  of  course 
with  them,  and  shared  the  affliction  of  the  bereaved 
parents,  as  she  had  formerly  shared  their  happiness.  In 
1814,  the  year  of  the  publication  of  the  'Excursion,1  all 
of  which  Miss  Wordsworth  had  transcribed,  her  brother 
made  another  tour  in  Scotland,  and  this  time  Yarrow  was 
not  unvisited.  His  wife  and  her  sister  went  with  him,  but 
Dorothy,  having  stayed  at  home  probably  to  tend  the 
children,  did  not  form  one  of  the  party,  a  circumstance 
which  her  brother  always  remembered  with  regret. 

In  the  summer  of  1820,  however,  she  visited  the  Con- 
tinent with  her  brother  and  Mrs.  Wordsworth,  but  of  this 
tour  no  record  remains.  Another  visit,  the  last  but  one, 
Wordsworth  made  to  Scotland  in  1831,  accompanied  by 
his  daughter  Dora.  This  time  Yarrow  was  revisited  in 
company  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  just  before  his  last  going 
from  Tweedside.  Wordsworth  has  chronicled  his  parting 
with  Scott  in  two  affecting  Poems,  which  if  any  reader 
does  not  know  by  heart,  I  would  recommend  him  to  read 
them  in  the  Appendix  to  this  Journal.* 

But  by  the  time  this  expedition  was  made,  Dorothy  was 
an  invalid  confined  to  a  sick-room.  In  the  year  1829  she 
*  See  Appendix,  pp.  304,  307. 


PREFACE.  xxxiii 

was  seized  by  a  severe  illness,  which  so  prostrated  her, 
body  and  mind,  that  she  never  recovered  from  it.  The 
unceasing  strain  of  years  had  at  last  worn  out  that 
buoyant  frame  and  fervid  spirit.  She  had  given  herself 
to  one  work,  and  that  work  was  done.  To  some  it  may 
seem  a  commonplace  one, — to  live  in  and  for  her  brother, 
to  do  by  him  a  sister's  duty.  With  original  powers  which, 
had  she  chosen  to  set  up  on  her  own  account,  might 
have  won  for  her  high  literary  fame,  she  was  content 
to  forget  herself,  to  merge  all  her  gifts  and  all  her  interests 
in  those  of  her  brother.  She  thus  made  him  other  and 
higher  than  he  could  have  been  had  he  stood  alone,  and 
enabled  him  to  render  better  service  to  the  world  than 
without  her  ministry  he  could  have  done.  With  this  she 
was  well  content.  It  is  sad  to  think  that  when  the  world 
at  last  knew  him  for  what  he  was,  the  great  original  poet 
of  this  century,  she  who  had  helped  to  make  him  so  was 
almost  past  rejoicing  in  it.  It  is  said  that  during  those 
latter  years  he  never  spoke  of  her  without  his  voice  being 
sensibly  softened  and  saddened.  The  return  of  the  day 
when  they  two  first  came  to  Grasmere  was  to  him  a  solemn 
anniversary.  But  though  so  enfeebled,  she  still  lived  on, 
and  survived  her  brother  by  nearly  five  years.  Her  death 
took  place  at  Rydal  Mount  in  January  1855,  at  the  age 
of  eighty-three.  And  now,  beside  her  brother  and  his  wife 
and  others  of  that  household,  she  rests  in  the  green  Gras- 
mere churchyard,  with  the  clear  waters  of  Rotha  murmur- 
ing by. 


xxxiv  PREFACE. 

To  return  to  the  Journal  As  we  read  it,  let  us  bear 
always  in  mind  that  it  was  not  meant  for  us,  for  the 
world,  or  'the  general  reader,'  but  to  be  listened  to  by 
a  small  family  circle,  gathered  round  the  winter  fire.  We 
should  therefore  remember  that  in  reading  it  we  are,  as  it 
were,  allowed,  after  seventy  years,  to  overhear  what  was  not 
primarily  meant  for  our  ears  at  all.  This  will  account  for 
a  fulness  and  minuteness  of  detail  which  to  unsympa- 
thetic persons  may  perhaps  appear  tedious.  But  the  writer 
was  telling  her  story,  not  for  unsympathetic  persons,  not 
for  '  general  readers,'  much  less  for  literary  critics,  but  for 
'the  household  hearts  that  were  her  own,'  on  whose 
sympathy  she  could  reckon,  even  down  to  the  minutest 
circumstances  of  this  journey.  And  so  there  is  no  attempt 
at  fine  or  sensational  writing,  as  we  now  call  it,  no  attempt 
at  that  modern  artifice  which  they  call  word-painting. 
But  there  is  the  most  absolute  sincerity,  the  most  per- 
fect fidelity  to  her  own  experience,  the  most  single-minded 
endeavour  to  set  down  precisely  the  things  they  saw  and 
heard  and  felt,  just  as  they  saw  and  felt  and  heard 
them,  while  moving  on  their  quiet  way.  And  hence 
perhaps  the  observant  reader  who  submits  himself  to  the 
spirit  that  pervades  this  Journal  may  find  in  its  effortless 
narrative  a  truthfulness,  a  tenderness  of  observation,  a 
'vivid  exactness,'  a  far-reaching  and  suggestive  insight, 
for  which  he  might  look  in  vain  in  more  studied  pro- 
ductions. 

Another  thing  to  note  is  the  historic  value  that  now 


PREFACE.  xxxv 

attaches  to  this  Journal.  It  marks  the  state  of  Scotland, 
and  the  feeling  with  which  the  most  finely  gifted  English- 
men came  to  it  seventy  years  since,  at  a  time  before  the  flood 
of  English  interest  and  '  tourism '  had  set  in  across  the 
Border.  The  "Wordsworths  were  of  course  not  average 
English  people.  They  came  with  an  eye  awake  and  trained 
for  nature,  and  a  heart  in  sympathy  with  nature  and  with 
man  in  a  degree  not  common  either  in  that  or  in  any  other 
age.  They  were  north-country  English  too,  and  between 
these  and  the  Lowland  Scots  there  was  less  difference  of 
fibre  and  of  feeling  than  there  generally  is  between  Cum- 
brians and  Londoners.  All  their  lives  they  had  been  wont 
to  gaze  across  the  Solway  on  the  dimly-outlined  mountains  of 
the  Scottish  Border.  This  alone  and  their  love  of  scenery 
and  of  wandering  were  enough,  apart  from  other  inducement, 
to  have  lured  them  northward.  But  that  tide  of  sentiment, 
which  in  our  day  has  culminated  in  our  annual  tourist 
inundation,  was  already  setting  in.  It  had  been  growing 
ever  since  '  The  Forty- five,'  when  the  sudden  descent  of 
the  Highland  host  on  England,  arrested  only  by  the  disas- 
trous pause  at  Derby,  had  frightened  the  Londoners  from 
their  propriety,  and  all  but  scared  the  Second  George  be- 
yond seas.  This  terror  in  time  subsided,  but  the  interest 
in  the  northern  savages  still  survived,  and  was  further 
stimulated  when,  about  fifteen  years  after,  the  portent  of 
Macpherson's  Ossian  burst  on  the  astonished  world  of 
literature.  Then  about  eleven  years  later,  in  1773,  the 
burly  and  bigoted  English  Lexicographer  buttoned  his 


xxxvi  PREFACE. 

great-coat  up  to  the  throat  and  set  out  on  a  Highland 
sheltie  from  Inverness,  on  that  wonderful  'Tour  to  the 
Hebrides/  by  which  he  determined  to  extinguish  for  ever 
Macpherson  and  his  impudent  forgeries.  Such  a  tour 
seemed  at  that  day  as  adventurous  as  would  now  be  a 
journey  to  the  heart  of  Africa,  and  the  stories  which 
Johnson  told  of  the  Hebrideans  and  their  lives  let  in  on 
his  Cockney  readers  the  impression  of  a  world  as  strange 
as  any  which  Livingstone  could  now  report  of.  Then,  in 
1786,  came  Burns,  whose  poetry,  if  it  did  not  reach  the 
ordinary  Englishman  of  the  literary  class,  at  least  thrilled 
the  hearts  of  English  poets.  That  Wordsworth  had  felt 
his  power  we  know,  for,  independent  as  he  stood,  and 
little  wont  to  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  any,  he 
yet  confesses  in  one  place  that  it  was  Burns  who  first  set 
him  on  the  right  track.  This  series  of  surprises  coming 
from  beyond  the  Tweed  had  drawn  the  eyes  of  Englishmen 
towards  Scotland.  Especially  two  such  voices — Ossian 
speaking  from  the  heart  of  the  Highlands,  Burns  concentrat- 
ing in  his  song  the  whole  strength  and  the  weakness  also 
of  Lowland  character — seemed  to  call  across  the  Borders  on 
Wordsworth  to  come  and  look  on  their  land.  And  dur- 
ing all  the  first  days  of  that  journey  the  thought  of  Burns 
and  his  untimely  end,  then  so  recent,  lay  heavy  on  his 
heart. 

Again,  it  were  well,  as  we  read,  to  remember  the  time 
when  this  Diary  was  written.  It  was  before  Scott  was 
known  as  an  original  poet,  before  he  had  given  anything 


PREFACE.  xxxvii 

to  the  world  save  *  The  Border  Minstrelsy.'  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  credit  Scott  with  whatever  enchantment  invests 
Scotland  in  the  eyes  of  the  English,  and  of  foreigners. 
And  doubtless  a  large  portion  of  it  is  due  to  him,  but 
perhaps  not  quite  so  much  as  we  are  apt  to  fancy.  We 
commonly  suppose  that  it  was  he  who  first  discovered 
the  Trossachs  and  Loch  Katrine,  and  revealed  them  to  the 
world  in  'The  Lady  of  the  Lake.'  Yet  they  must  have  had 
some  earlier  renown,  enough  to  make  Wordsworth,  travel- 
ling two  years  before  the  appearance  even  of  Scott's  '  Lay,' 
turn  aside  to  go  in  search  of  them. 

To  Dorothy  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  this  was  the  first 
time  they  had  set  foot  on  Scottish  ground.  Wordsworth 
himself  seems  to  have  crossed  the  Border  two  years  before 
this,  though  of  that  journey  there  is  no  record  remaining. 
As  they  set  forth  from  Keswick  on  that  August  morning 
one  can  well  believe  that 

'  Their  exterior  semblance  did  belie 
Their  soul's  immensity.' 

None  of  the  three  paid  much  regard  to  the  outward  man. 
Coleridge,  perhaps,  in  soiled  nankeen  trousers,  and  with 
the  blue  and  brass  in  which  he  used  to  appear  in  Uni- 
tarian pulpits,  buttoned  round  his  growing  corpulency ; 
Wordsworth  in  a  suit  of  russet,  not  to  say  dingy,  brown, 
with  a  broad  flapping  straw  hat  to  protect  his  weak  eye- 
sight. And  as  for  Miss  Wordsworth,  we  may  well 
believe  that  in  her  dress  she  thought  more  of  use  than 
of  ornament.  These  three,  mounted  on  their  outlandish 


xxxviii  PREFACE. 

Irish  car,  with  a  horse,  now  gibbing  and  backing  over 
a  bank,  now  reduced  to  a  walk,  with  one  of  the  poets 
leading  him  by  the  head,  must  have  cut  but  a  sorry 
figure,  and  wakened  many  a  smile  and  gibe  in  passers- 
by.  As  they  wound  their  way  up  Nithsdale,  one  can 
well  imagine  how  some  Border  lord  or  laird,  riding,  or 
driving  past  in  smart  equipage,  would  look  on  them 
askance,  taking  them  for  what  Burns  calls  a  'wheen 
gangrel  bodies,'  or  for  a  set  of  Dominie  Sampsons  from  the 
other  side  the  Border,  or  for  some  offshoot  of  the  '  Auld 
Licht '  Seceders.  Poor  Coleridge,  ill  at  ease,  and  in  the 
dumps  all  the  way,  stretched  asleep  on  the  car  cushions, 
while  the  other  two  were  admiring  the  scenery,  could  not 
have  added  to  their  hilarity.  And  it  must  have  been  a 
relief  to  Wordsworth  and  his  sister,  though  the  Journal 
hints  it  not,  when  he  left  them  at  Loch  Lomond.  But 
however  grotesque  their  appearance  may  have  been,  they 
bore  within  them  that  which  made  their  journey  rich  in 
delight  to  themselves,  not  to  say  to  others.  They  were 
then  both  in  their  prime,  Wordsworth  and  his  sister 
being  just  past  thirty.  They  had  the  observant  eye 
and  the  feeling  heart  which  money  cannot  buy.  No 
doubt  to  them,  accustomed  to  the  cleanness  and  comfort 
of  the  farms  and  cottages  of  Westmoreland,  those  '  homes 
of  ancient  peace,'  with  their  warm  stone  porches  and 
their  shelter  of  household  sycamores,  the  dirt  and  discom- 
fort of  the  inns  and  of  the  humbler  abodes  they  entered 
must  have  been  repulsive  enough.  Even  the  gentlemen's 


PREFACE. 

seats  had  to  them  an  air  of  neglect  and  desolation,  and 
the  new  plantations  of  larch  and  fir  with  which  they 
had  then  begun  to  be  surrounded,  gave  an  impression  of  raw- 
ness, barrenness,  and  lack  of  geniality.  Nor  less  in  large 
to\rns,  as  in  Glasgow,  were  they  struck  by  the  dulness  and 
dreariness  in  the  aspect  and  demeanour  of  the  '  dim  com- 
mon populations.'  They  saw  and  felt  these  things  as  keenly 
as  any  could  do.  But,  unlike  ordinary  travellers,  they  were 
not  scared  or  disgusted  by  them.  They  did  not  think  that 
the  first  appearance  was  all.  They  felt  and  saw  that  there 
was  more  behind.  "With  lively  interest  they  note  the 
healthy  young  women  travelling  barefoot,  though  well 
dressed,  the  children  without  shoes  or  stockings,  the  bare- 
foot boys,  some  with  their  caps  wreathed  with  wild  flowers, 
others  who  could  read  Virgil  or  Homer.  They  pass,  as 
friends,  beneath  the  humble  cottage  roofs,  look  with  sym- 
pathy on  the  countenances  of  the  inmates,  partake,  when 
bidden,  of  their  homely  fare,  enter  feelingly  into  their 
pathetic  human  histories.  They  came  there  not  to  criticise, 
but  to  know  and  feel. 

Again,  their  intense  love  for  their  Westmoreland  dales 
and  meres  did  not  send  them  to  look  on  those  of  Scotland 
with  a  sense  of  rivalry,  but  of  brotherhood.  They  were 
altogether  free  from  that  vulgar  habit  of  comparing  scene 
with  scene  which  so  poisons  the  eye  to  all  true  perception 
of  natural  beauty, — as  though  the  one  great  end  were  to 
graduate  all  the  various  scenes  of  nature  in  the  list  of  a 
competitive  examination.  Hence  whatever  new  they  met 


xl  PREFACE. 

with,  they  were  ready  to  welcome  and  enjoy.  They  could 
appreciate  the  long,  bare,  houseless,  treeless  glens,  not  less 
than  the  well-wooded  lakes.  And  yet  Miss  Wordsworth's 
home-heartedness  makes  her  long  for  some  touches  of  home 
and  human  habitation  to  break  the  long  bleak  solitudes 
she  passed  through.  The  absolute  desolation  of  the  Moor 
of  Kannoch,  so  stirring  to  some,  was  evidently  too  much 

for  her. 

'  The  loneliness 
Loaded  her  heart,  the  desert  tired  her  eye.' 

Again,  throughout  the  Journal  we  see  how  to  her  eye 
man  and  nature  interact  on  each  other.  That  deep  feeling, 
so  strong  in  her  brother's  poetry,  of  the  interest  that  man 
gives  to  nature,  and  still  more  the  dignity  that  nature  gives 
to  man,  is  not  less  strongly  felt  by  her.  It  is  man  seen 
against  a  great  background  of  nature  and  solitude  that 
most  stirs  her  imagination.  The  woman  sitting  sole  by 
the  margin  of  Daer  Water,  or  the  old  man  alone  in  'the 
corn-field,  or  the  boy  solitary  on  the  Moor  of  Crawford- 
John — these  in  her  prose  are  pictures  quite  akin  and 
equal  to  many  a  one  that  occurs  in  her  brother's  verse. 
This  sense  of  man  with  'grandeur  circumfused,'  '  the 
sanctity  of  nature  given  to  man,'  is  as  primary  in  her  as  in 
her  brother.  I  cannot  believe  that  she  merely  learnt  it 
from  him.  It  must  have  been  innate  in  both,  derived  by 
both  from  one  original  source. 

One  is  struck  throughout  by  the  absence  of  all  effort  at 
fine  or  imaginative  writing.  But  this  only  makes  more 


PREFACE.  xli 

effective  those  natural  gleams  that  come  unbidden.  After 
the  dulness  of  Glasgow  and  the  Vale  of  Leven  comes  that 
wakening  up  to  very  ecstasy  among  the  islands  of  Loch 
Lomond, — that  new  world,  magical,  enchanting.  And  then 
that  plunge  into  the  heart  of  the  Highlands,  when  they 
find  themselves  by  the  shores  of  Loch  Katrine,  alone  with 
the  native  people  there, — the  smell  of  the  peat-reek  within, 
and  the  scent  of  the  bog-myrtle  without ;  those  '  gentle 
ardours'  that  awake,  as  they  move  along  Lochawe-side 
and  look  into  the  cove  of  Cruachan,  or  catch  that  Appin 
glen  by  Loch  Linnhe,  at  the  bright  sunset  hour,  enlivened 
by  the  haymaking  people ;  or  that  new  rapture  they  drink 
in  at  the  first  glimpse,  from  Loch  Etive  shores,  of  the 
blue  Atlantic  Isles.  And  then  what  a  fitting  close  to  such 
a  tour  was  that  meeting  with  Walter  Scott ;  the  two  great 
poets  of  their  time,  both  in  the  morning  of  their  power, 
and  both  still  unknown,  joining  hands  of  friendship  which 
was  to  last  for  life  ! 

But  I  have  said  more  than  enough.  Those  who  care 
for  the  things  which  the  Wordsworths  cared  for  will  find 
in  this  quiet  narrative  much  to  their  mind.  And  they 
will  find  from  it  some  new  light  shed  on  those  delightful 
poems,  memorial  of  that  tour,  which  remain  as  an  undying 
track  of  glory  illuminating  the  path  these  two  trod.  These 
poems  are  printed  in  the  Appendix,  that  those  who  know 
them  well  may  read  them  once  again,  and  that  those  who 
do  not  know  them,  except  by  Guide-book  extracts,  may  turn 
to  them,  after  reading  the  Journal,  and  try  whether  they 

d 


xlii  PREFACE. 

cannot  find  in  them  something  which  they  never  found 
elsewhere. 


There  is  one  entry,  the  last  in  the  Journal,  made  as  late 
as  1832,  which  alludes  to  a  fact  which,  but  for  this  note, 
might  have  been  left  without  comment.*  Throughout  the 
whole  tour  no  distinction  seems  to  have  been  made  between 
Saturday  and  Sunday.  One  would  have  thought  that,  if 
nothing  else,  sympathy  at  least,  which  they  did  not  lack, 
would  have  led  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  to  turn  aside 
and  share  the  Sabbath  worship  of  the  native  people. 
Even  the  tired  jade  might  have  put  in  his  claim  for 
his  Sabbath  rest;  not  to  mention  the  scandal  which  the 
sight  of  Sunday  travellers  in  lonely  parts  of  Scotland 
must  then  have  caused,  and  the  name  they  must  many  a 
tune  have  earned  for  themselves,  of  'Sabbath-breakers.' 
This  last  entry  of  1832,  however,  marks  a  change,  which, 
if  it  came  to  Dorothy,  came  not  less  decidedly  to  her 
brother.  This  change  has  been  often  remarked  on,  and  has 
been  stigmatized  by  'the  enlightened  ones'  as  '  the  reaction.' 
They  say  that  the  earlier  nature-worship,  which  they  call 

*  The  following  is  the  entry  referred  to  : — 

'  October  42A,  1832. — I  find  that  this  tour  was  both  begun  and  ended  on 
a  Sunday.  I  am  sorry  that  it  should  have  been  so,  though  I  hope  and 
trust  that  our  thoughts  and  feelings  were  not  seldom  as  pious  and  serious 
as  if  we  had  duly  attended  a  place  devoted  to  public  worship.  My  senti- 
ments have  undergone  a  great  change  since  1803  respecting  the  absolute 
necessity  of  keeping  the  Sabbath  by  a  regular  attendance  at  church. 

'D.  W.' 


PREFACE.  xliii 

Pantheistic,  speaks  the  true  and  genuine  man ;  the  later  and 
more  consciously  Christian  mood  they  regard  as  the  pro- 
duct, not  of  deepened  experience,  but  of  timidity,  or  at 
least  as  the  sign  of  decreasing  insight.  It  is  not  so  that  I 
would  interpret  it.  Wordsworth  and  his  sister,  with  their 
rare  gift  of  soul  and  eye,  saw  further  into  nature,  and  felt  it 
more  profoundly  than  common  men  can,  and  had  no  doubt 
found  there  something  which  the  gross  world  dreams  not  of. 
They  recovered  thence  a  higher  teaching,  which  men  for 
ages  had  lost.  They  learnt  to  think  of  God  as  being 
actually  very  near  to  them  in  all  they  saw  and  heard ;  not 
as  the  mechanical  Artificer,  who  makes  a  world  and  then 
dwells  aloof  from  it,  but  as 

'  The  Being  that  is  in  the  clouds  and  air, 
That  is  in  the  green  leaves  among  the  groves.' 

In  nature,  which  to  most  eyes  is  but  a  dull  lifeless  mass, 
impelled  by  dead  mechanic  movements,  their  finer  spirits 
were  aware  of  a  breathing  life,  a  living  Presence,  distinct, 
yet  not  alien  from,  their  own  spirits,  and  thence  they  drank 
life,  and  strength,  and  joy.  And  not  in  nature  alone,  but 
from  their  own  hearts,  from  the  deep  places  of  their  moral 
nature,  and  from  their  minglings  with  their  fellow-men, 
they  could  oftentimes  overhear 

'  The  still  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Nor  harsh  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.' 

And  through  this  they  learned  to  feel  for  themselves,  and 
not  conventionally,  the  upholding  presence  of  One  on  whom 


xliv  PREFACE. 

the  soul's  '  dark  foundations  rest.'  Likely  enough  in  the 
prime  of  their  strength  they  may  have  imagined  that 
these  teachings  coming  from  nature  and  from  man  were 
in  themselves  enough. 

But  when  sorrow  and  bereavement  came,  and  with  them 
the  deepened  sense  of  sin  and  of  utter  need,  they  learned 
that  in  nature  alone  was  nothing  which  in  the  end  they  could 
abide  by.  They  had  been  true  to  the  lights  they  had,  and 
they  were  led  on  to  higher.  They  were  led  to  go  beyond 
nature  and  man  for  their  ultimate  support,  and  to  overhear 
from  that  higher  region  another,  diviner  '  tone,  into  which 
all  the  strains  of  this  world's  music  are  ultimately  to  be 
resolved.'  The  Poet,  nor  less  his  sister,  came  at  length  to 
feel,  what  philosophers  find  so  hard  to  believe, — that  The 
Being  whom  he  had  long  known  as  near  him  in  the 
solitudes  of  nature,  as  close  to  the  beatings  of  his  own 
heart,  was  He  who  had  so  loved  him  as  to  die  for  him. 
True  it  is  that  this  later  and  more  distinctly  Christian 
experience  is  but  faintly  reflected  in  Wordsworth's  poetry 
compared  with  the  earlier  naturalistic  mood.  But  this  is 
explained  by  the  fact  that  before  the  later  experience 
became  prominent,  the  early  fervour  of  poetic  creation 
had  already  passed.  Not  the  less  for  this,  however,  was 
the  poet's  later  conviction  a  riper,  more  advanced  wisdom 
— not  a  retrogression. 

J.  C.  SHAIRP. 

CUILALUHJN,  June  1874. 

V— •O6L»-"V^  • 


EECOLLECTIONS 


OF 


A  TOUR  MADE  IN   SCOTLAND. 

A.D.  1803. 


FIRS  T    WEEK. 

WILLIAM  and  I  parted  from  Mary  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
August  14th,  1803;  and  William,  Coleridge,  and  I  left 
Keswick  on  Monday  morning,  the  15th,  at  twenty  minutes 
after  eleven  o'clock.  The  day  was  very  hot ;  we  walked 
up  the  hills,  and  along  all  the  rough  road,  which  made  our 
walking  half  the  day's  journey.  Travelled  under  the  foot 
of  Carrock,  a  mountain  covered  with  stones  on  the  lower 
part ;  above,  it  is  very  rocky,  but  sheep  pasture  there ; 
we  saw  several  where  there  seemed  to  be  no  grass  to  tempt 
them.  Passed  the  foot  of  Grisdale  and  Mosedale,  both 
pastoral  valleys,  narrow,  and  soon  terminating  in  the  moun- 
tains— green,  with  scattered  trees  and  houses,  and  each  a 
beautiful  stream.  At  Grisdale  our  horse  backed  upon  a 
steep  bank  where  the  road  was  not  fenced,  just  above  a 
pretty  mill  at  the  foot  of  the  valley ;  and  we  had  a  second 
threatening  of  a  disaster  in  crossing  a  narrow  bridge 

A 


2  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

between  the  two  dales ;  but  this  was  not  the  fault  of  either 
man  or  horse.  Slept  at  Mr.  Younghusband's  public-house, 
Hesket  Newmarket.  In  the  evening  walked  to  Caldbeck 
Falls,  a  delicious  spot  in  which  to  breathe  out  a  summer's 
day — limestone  rocks,  hanging  trees,  pools,  and  water 
breaks — caves  and  caldrons  which  have  been  honoured 
with  fairy  names,  and  no  doubt  continue  in  the  fancy  of 
the  neighbourhood  to  resound  with  fairy  revels. 

Tuesday,  August  IQth. — Passed  Rose  Castle  upon  the 
Caldew,  an  ancient  building  of  red  stone,  with  sloping 
gardens,  an  ivied  gateway,  velvet  lawns,  old  garden  walls, 
trim  flower-borders  with  stately  and  luxuriant  flowers. 
We  walked  up  to  the  house  and  stood  some  minutes 
watching  the  swallows  that  flew  about  restlessly,  and  flung 
their  shadows  upon  the  sunbright  walls  of  the  old  build- 
ing ;  the  shadows  glanced  and  twinkled,  interchanged  and 
crossed  each  other,  expanded  and  shrunk  up,  appeared  and 
disappeared  every  instant ;  as  I  observed  to  William  and 
Coleridge,  seeming  more  like  living  things  than  the  birds 
themselves.  Dined  at  Carlisle  ;  the  town  in  a  bustle  with 
the  assizes  ;  so  many  strange  faces  known  in  former  times 
and  recognised,  that  it  half  seemed  as  if  I  ought  to  know 
them  all,  and,  together  with  the  noise,  the  fine  ladies,  etc., 
they  put  me  into  confusion.  This  day  Hatfield  was  con- 
demned.1 I  stood  at  the  door  of  the  gaoler's  house,  where 
he  was;  William  entered  the  house,  and  Coleridge  saw 
him ;  I  fell  into  conversation  with  a  debtor,  who  told  me 
in  a  dry  way  that  he  was  '  far  over-learned,'  and  another 
man  observed  to  William  that  we  might  learn  from 
Hatfield's  fate  'not  to  meddle  with  pen  and  ink.'  We 
gave  a  shilling  to  my  companion,  whom  we  found  out  to  be 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  3 

a  friend  of  the  family,  a  fellow-sailor  with  my  brother  John2 
'in  Captain  Wordsworth's  ship.'  Walked  upon  the  city 
walls,  which  are  broken  down  in  places  and  crumbling 
away,  and  most  disgusting  from  filth.  The  city  and 
neighbourhood  of  Carlisle  disappointed  me ;  the  banks  of 
the  river  quite  flat,  and,  though  the  holms  are  rich,  there 
is  not  much  beauty  in  the  vale  from  the  want  of  trees — at 
least  to  the  eye  of  a  person  coming  from  England,  and, 
I  scarcely  know  how,  but  to  me  the  holms  had  not 
a  natural  look;  there  was  something  townish  in  their 
appearance,  a  dulness  in  their  strong  deep  green.  To 
Longtown — not  very  interesting,  except  from  the  long  views 
over  the  flat  country;  the  road  rough,  chiefly  newly  mended. 
Reached  Longtown  after  sunset,  a  town  of  brick  houses 
belonging  chiefly  to  the  Graham  family.  Being  in  the  form 
of  a  cross  and  not  long,  it  had  been  better  called  Crosstown. 
There  are  several  shops,  and  it  is  not  a  very  small  place ; 
but  I  could  not  meet  with  a  silver  thimble,  and  bought  a 
halfpenny  brass  one.  Slept  at  the  Graham's  Arms,  a  large 
inn.  Here,  as  everywhere  else,  the  people  seemed  utterly 
insensible  of  the  enormity  of  Hatfield's  offences ;  the  ostler 
told  William  that  he  was  quite  a  gentleman,  paid  every 
one  genteelly,  etc.  etc.  He  and  'Mary'  had  walked  together 
to  Gretna  Green ;  a  heavy  rain  came  on  when  they  were 
there  ;  a  returned  chaise  happened  to  pass,  and  the  driver 
would  have  taken  them  up;  but  'Mr.  Hope's'  carriage  was 
to  be  sent  for;  he  did  not  choose  to  accept  the  chaise- 
driver's  offer. 

Wednesday,  August  17th. — Left  Longtown  after  break- 
fast. About  half-a-mile  from  the  town  a  guide-post  and 
two  roads,  to  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow ;  we  took  the  left- 


4  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

hand  road,  to  Glasgow.  Here  saw  a  specimen  of  the 
luxuriance  of  the  heath-plant,  as  it  grows  in  Scotland ;  it 
was  in  the  enclosed  plantations — perhaps  sheltered  by 
them.  These  plantations  appeared  to  be  not  well  grown 
for  their  age;  the  trees  were  stunted.  Afterwards  the 
road,  treeless,  over  a  peat-moss  common — the  Solway 
Moss ;  here  and  there  an  earth-built  hut  with  its  peat 
stack,  a  scanty  growing  willow  hedge  round  the  kail- 
garth,  perhaps  the  cow  pasturing  near, — a  little  lass 
watching  it, — the  dreary  waste  cheered  by  the  endless 
singing  of  larks. 

We  enter  Scotland  by  crossing  the  river  Sark ;  on  the 
Scotch  side  of  the  bridge  the  ground  is  unenclosed  pastur- 
age ;  it  was  very  green,  and  scattered  over  with  that  yellow 
flowered  plant  which  we  call  grunsel ;  the  hills  heave  and 
swell  prettily  enough  ;  cattle  feeding ;  a  few  corn-fields  near 
the  river.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  opposite  is  Springfield, 
a  village  built  by  Sir  William  Maxwell — a  dull  uniformity 
in  the  houses,  as  is  usual  when  all  built  at  one  time,  or 
belonging  to  one  individual,  each  just  big  enough  for  two 
people  to  live  in,  and  in  which  a  family,  large  or  small  as  it 
may  happen,  is  crammed.  There  the  marriages  are  performed. 
Further  on,  though  almost  contiguous,  is  Gretna  Green, 
upon  a  hill  and  among  trees.  This  sounds  well,  but  it 
is  a  dreary  place ;  the  stone  houses  dirty  and  miserable, 
with  broken  windows.  There  is  a  pleasant  view  from  the 
churchyard  over  Solway  Firth  to  the  Cumberland  moun- 
tains. Dined  at  Annan.  On  our  left  as  we  travelled  along 
appeared  the  Solway  Firth  and  the  mountains  beyond,  but 
the  near  country  dreary.  Those  houses  by  the  roadside 
which  are  built  of  stone  are  comfortless  and  dirty;  but 
we  peeped  into  a  clay  'biggin'  that  was  very  'canny,'  and 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  5 

I  daresay  will  be  as  warm  as  a  swallow's  nest  in  winter. 
The  town  of  Annan  made  me  think  of  France  and  Germany; 
many  of  the  houses  large  and  gloomy,  the  size  of  them 
outrunning  the  comforts.  One  thing  which  was  like 
Germany  pleased  me :  the  shopkeepers  express  their 
calling  by  some  device  or  painting;  bread-bakers  have 
biscuits,  loaves,  cakes  painted  on  their  window-shutters; 
blacksmiths  horses'  shoes,  iron  tools,  etc.  etc. ;  and  so  on 
through  all  trades. 

Reached  Dumfries  at  about  nine  o'clock — market-day ; 
met  crowds  of  people  on  the  road  and  every  one  had  a 
smile  for  us  and  our  car.  .  .  .  The  inn  was  a  large 
house,  and  tolerably  comfortable;  Mr.  Rogers  and  his 
sister,  whom  we  had  seen  at  our  own  cottage  at  Gras- 
mere  a  few  days  before,  had  arrived  there  that  same 
afternoon  on  their  way  to  the  Highlands;  but  we  did 
not  see  them  till  the  next  morning,  and  only  for  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

Thursday,  August  18th. — Went  to  the  churchyard  where 
Burns  is  buried.  A  bookseller  accompanied  us.  He 
showed  us  the  outside  of  Burns's  house,  where  he  had  lived 
the  last  three  years  of  his  life,  and  where  he  died.  It  has 
a  mean  appearance,  and  is  in  a  bye  situation,  whitewashed ; 
dirty  about  the  doors,  as  almost  all  Scotch  houses  are; 
flowering  plants  in  the  windows. 

Went  on  to  visit  his  grave.  He  lies  at  a  corner  of  the 
churchyard,  and  his  second  son,  Francis  Wallace,  beside 
him.  There  is  no  stone  to  mark  the  spot  ;3  but  a  hundred 
guineas  have  been  collected,  to  be  expended  on  some  sort 
of  monument.  '  There,'  said  the  bookseller,  pointing  to  a 
pompous  monument,  '  there  lies  Mr.  Such-a-one ' — I  have 


6  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

forgotten  his  name, — 'a  remarkably  clever  man;  he  was 
an  attorney,  and  hardly  ever  lost  a  cause  he  undertook. 
Burns  made  many  a  lampoon  upon  him,  and  there  they  rest, 
as  you  see.'  We  looked  at  the  grave  with  melancholy  and 
painful  reflections,  repeating  to  each  other  his  own  verses  : — 

'  Is  there  a  man  whose  judgment  clear 
Can  others  teach  the  course  to  steer, 
Yet  runs  himself  life's  mad  career 

Wild  as  the  wave  ? — 
Here  let  him  pause,  and  through  a  tear 

Survey  this  grave. 

The  poor  Inhabitant  below 

Was  quick  to  learn,  and  wise  to  know, 

And  keenly  felt  the  friendly  glow 

And  softer  flame  ; 
But  thoughtless  follies  laid  him  low, 

And  stain'd  his  name.' 

The  churchyard  is  full  of  grave-stones  and  expensive 
monuments  in  all  sorts  of  fantastic  shapes — obelisk- wise, 
pillar-wise,  etc.  In  speaking  of  Gretna  Green,  I  forgot  to 
mention  that  we  visited  the  churchyard.  The  church  is 
like  a  huge  house ;  indeed,  so  are  all  the  churches,  with  a 
steeple,  not  a  square  tower  or  spire, — a  sort  of  thing  more 
like  a  glass-house  chimney  than  a  Church  of  England 
steeple ;  grave-stones  in  abundance,  few  verses,  yet  there 
were  some — no  texts.  Over  the  graves  of  married  women 
the  maiden  name  instead  of  that  of  the  husband,  '  spouse' 
instead  of  'wife,'  and  the  place  of  abode  preceded  by 
'in'  instead  of  'of.'  When  our  guide  had  left  us,  we 
turned  again  to  Burns's  house.  Mrs.  Burns  was  gone  to 
spend  some  time  by  the  sea-shore  with  her  children.  We 
spoke  to  the  servant-maid  at  the  door,  who  invited  us 
forward,  and  we  sat  down  in  the  parlour.  The  walls  were 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  7 

coloured  with  a  blue  wash ;  on  one  side  of  the  fire  was  a 
mahogany  desk,  opposite  to  the  window  a  clock,  and  over 
the  desk  a  print  from  the  '  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,' 
which  Burns  mentions  in  one  of  his  letters  having  received 
as  a  present.  The  house  was  cleanly  and  neat  in  the 
inside,  the  stairs  of  stone,  scoured  white,  the  kitchen  on 
the  right  side  of  the  passage,  the  parlour  on  the  left.  In 
the  room  above  the  parlour  the  Poet  died,  and  his  son 
after  him  in  the  same  room.  The  servant  told  us  she  had 
lived  five  years  with  Mrs.  Burns,  who  was  now  in  great 
sorrow  for  the  death  of  'Wallace.'  She  said  that  Mrs. 
Burns's  youngest  son  was  at  Christ's  Hospital. 

"NVe  were  glad  to  leave  Dumfries,  which  is  no  agreeable 
place  to  them  who  do  not  love  the  bustle  of  a  town  that 
seems  to  be  rising  up  to  wealth.  We  could  think  of  little  else 
but  poor  Burns,  and  his  moving  about  on  that  unpoetic 
ground.  In  our  road  to  Brownhill,  the  next  stage,  we 
passed  Ellisland  at  a  little  distance  on  our  right,  his  farm- 
house. We  might  there  have  had  more  pleasure  in  looking 
round,  if  we  had  been  nearer  to  the  spot ;  but  there  is  no 
thought  surviving  in  connexion  with  Burns's  daily  life 
that  is  not  heart-depressing.  Travelled  through  the  vale 
of  Nith,  here  little  like  a  vale,  it  is  so  broad,  with  irregular 
hills  rising  up  on  each  side,  in  outline  resembling  the 
old-fashioned  valances  of  a  bed.  There  is  a  great  deal  of 
arable  land ;  the  corn  ripe  ;  trees  here  and  there — planta- 
tions, clumps,  coppices,  and  a  newness  in  everything. 
So  much  of  the  gorse  and  broom  rooted  out  that  you 
wonder  why  it  is  not  all  gone,  and  yet  there  seems  to  be 
almost  as  much  gorse  and  broom  as  corn ;  and  they  grow 
one  among  another  you  know  not  how.  Crossed  the 
Nith ;  the  vale  becomes  narrow,  and  very  pleasant ;  corn 


8  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

fields,  green  hills,  clay  cottages ;  the  river's  bed  rocky,  with 
woody  banks.  Left  the  Nith  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  and 
reached  Brownhill,  a  lonely  inn,  where  we  slept.  The  view 
from  the  windows  was  pleasing,  though  some  travellers 
might  have  been  disposed  to  quarrel  with  it  for  its  general 
nakedness;  yet  there  was  abundance  of  corn.  It  is  an 
open  country — open,  yet  all  over  hills.  At  a  little  distance 
were  many  cottages  among  trees,  that  looked  very  pretty. 
Brownhill  is  about  seven  or  eight  miles  from  Ellisland. 
I  fancied  to  myself,  while  I  was  sitting  in  the  parlour,  that 
Burns  might  have  caroused  there,  for  most  likely  his 
rounds  extended  so  far,  and  this  thought  gave  a  melan- 
choly interest  to  the  smoky  walls.  It  was  as  pretty  a 
room  as  a  thoroughly  dirty  one  could  be — a  square  parlour 
painted  green,  but  so  covered  over  with  smoke  and  dirt 
that  it  looked  not  unlike  green  seen  through  black  gauze. 
There  were  three  windows,  looking  three  ways,  a  buffet 
ornamented  with  tea-cups,  a  superfine  largeish  looking- 
glass  with  gilt  ornaments  spreading  far  and  wide,  the  glass 
spotted  with  dirt,  some  ordinary  alehouse  pictures,  and 
above  the  chimney-piece  a  print  in  a  much  better  style 
— as  William  guessed,  taken  from  a  painting  by  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds — of  some  lady  of  quality,  in  the  character  of 
Euphrosyne.  '  Ay,'  said  the  servant  girl,  seeing  that  we 
looked  at  it,  'there's  many  travellers  would  give  a  deal  for 
that,  it's  more  admired  than  any  in  the  house.'  We 
could  not  but  smile ;  for  the  rest  were  such  as  may  be  found 
in  the  basket  of  any  Italian  image  and  picture  hawker. 

William  and  I  walked  out  after  dinner;  Coleridge 
was  not  well,  and  slept  upon  the  carriage  cushions.  We 
made  our  way  to  the  cottages  among  the  little  hills  and 
knots  of  wood,  and  then  saw  what  a  delightful  country 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  9 

this  part  of  Scotland  might  be  made  by  planting  forest 
trees.  The  ground  all  over  heaves  and  swells  like  a  sea ; 
but  for  miles  there  are  neither  trees  nor  hedgerows,  only 
'mound'  fences  and  tracts;  or  slips  of  corn,  potatoes,  clover 
— with  hay  between,  and  barren  land;  but  near  the 
cottages  many  hills  and  hillocks  covered  with  wood.  We 
passed  some  fine  trees,  and  paused  under  the  shade  of  one 
close  by  an  old  mansion  that  seemed  from  its  neglected 
state  to  be  inhabited  by  farmers.  But  I  must  say 
that  many  of  the  'gentlemen's'  houses  which  we  have 
passed  in  Scotland  have  an  air  of  neglect,  and  even  of 
desolation.  It  was  a  beech,  in  the  full  glory  of  complete 
and  perfect  growth,  very  tall,  with  one  thick  stem  mounting 
to  a  considerable  height,  which  was  split  into  four  '  thighs/ 
as  Coleridge  afterwards  called  them,  each  in  size  a  fine  tree. 
Passed  another  mansion,  now  tenanted  by  a  schoolmaster ; 
many  boys  playing  upon  the  lawn.  I  cannot  take  leave  of 
the  country  which  we  passed  through  to-day,  without  men- 
tioning that  we  saw  the  Cumberland  mountains  within  half 
a  mile  of  Ellisland,  Burns's  house,  the  last  view  we  had  of 
them.  Drayton  has  prettily  described  the  connexion  which 
this  neighbourhood  has  with  ours  when  he  makes  Skiddaw 
say — 

'Scurfell*  from  the  sky, 

That  Anadalet  doth  crown,  with  a  most  amorous  eye, 
Salutes  me  every  day,  or  at  my  pride  looks  grim, 
Oft  threatning  me  with  clouds,  as  I  oft  threatning  him.' 

These  lines  recurred  to  William's  memory,  and  we  talked 
of  Burns,  and  of  the  prospect  he  must  have  had,  perhaps 
from  his  own  door,  of  Skiddaw  and  his  companions,  indulg- 
ing ourselves  in  the  fancy  that  we  might  have  been 

*  Criffel.  t  Annandale. 


10  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

personally  known  to  each  other,  and  he  have  looked  upon 
those  objects  with  more  pleasure  for  our  sakes.  We  talked 
of  Coleridge's  children  and  family,  then  at  the  foot  of 
Skiddaw,  and  our  own  new-born  John  a  few  miles  behind 
it ;  while  the  grave  of  Burns's  son,  which  we  had  just  seen 
by  the  side  of  his  father,  and  some  stories  heard  at  Dumfries 
respecting  the  dangers  his  surviving  children  were  exposed 
to,  filled  us  with  melancholy  concern,  which  had  a  kind  of 
connexion  with  ourselves.  In  recollection  of  this,  William 
long  afterwards  wrote  the  following  Address  to  the  sons  of 
the  ill-fated  poet : — 

Ye  now  are  panting  up  life's  hill, 
Tis  twilight  time  of  good  and  ill, 
And  more  than  common  strength  and  skill 

Must  ye  display, 
If  ye  would  give  the  better  will 

Its  lawful  sway. 

Strong-bodied  if  ye  be  to  bear 
Intemperance  with  less  harm,  beware, 
But  if  your  Father's  wit  ye  share, 

Then,  then  indeed, 
Ye  Sons  of  Burns,  for  watchful  care 

There  will  be  need. 

For  honest  men  delight  will  take 
To  shew  you  favour  for  his  sake, 
Will  flatter  you,  and  Fool  and  Eake 

Your  steps  pursue, 
And  of  your  Father's  name  will  make 

A  snare  for  you. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  11 

Let  no  mean  hope  your  souls  enslave, 
Be  independent,  generous,  brave ; 
Your  Father  such  example  gave, 

And  such  revere, 
But  be  admonished  by  his  grave, 

And  think  and  fear.* 

Friday,  August  19th. — Open  country  for  a  considerable 
way.  Passed  through  the  village  of  Thornhill,  built  by  the 
Duke  of  Queensberry  ;  the  '  brother-houses '  so  small  that 
they  might  have  been  built  to  stamp  a  character  of  insolent 
pride  on  his  own  huge  mansion  of  Drumlanrigg,  which  is 
full  in  view  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Nith.  This  man- 
sion is  indeed  very  large  ;  but  to  us  it  appeared  like  a 
gathering  together  of  little  things.  The  roof  is  broken  into 
a  hundred  pieces,  cupolas,  etc.,  in  the  shape  of  casters,  con- 
juror's balls,  cups,  and  the  like.  The  situation  would  be 
noble  if  the  woods  had  been  left  standing  ;  but  they  have 
been  cut  down  not  long  ago,  and  the  hills  above  and  be- 
low the  house  are  quite  bare.  About  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  Drumlanrigg  is  a  turnpike  gate  at  the  top  of  a  hill. 
We  left  our  car  with  the  man,  and  turned  aside  into  a  field 
where  we  looked  down  upon  the  Nith,  which  runs  far  be- 
low in  a  deep  and  rocky  channel ;  the  banks  woody ;  the 
view  pleasant  down  the  river  towards  Thornhill,  an  open 
country — corn  fields,  pastures,  and  scattered  trees.  Returned 
to  the  turnpike  house,  a  cold  spot  upon  a  common,  black 
cattle  feeding  close  to  the  door.  Our  road  led  us  down 
the  hill  to  the  side  of  the  Nith,  and  we  travelled  along  its 
banks  for  some  miles.  Here  were  clay  cottages  perhaps 
every  half  or  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  bed  of  the  stream 
rough  with  rocks ;  banks  irregular,  now  woody,  now  bare  y 
*  See  Appendix  A. 


12  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

here  a  patch  of  broom,  there  of  corn,  then  of  pasturage ; 
and  hills  green  or  heathy  above.  We  were  to  have  given 
our  horse  meal  and  water  at  a  public-house  in  one  of  the 
hamlets  we  passed  through,  but  missed  the  house,  for,  as 
is  common  in  Scotland,  it  was  without  a  sign-board. 
Travelled  on,  still  beside  the  Nith,  till  we  came  to  a  turnpike 
house,  which  stood  rather  high  on  the  hill-side,  and  from 
the  door  we  looked  a  long  way  up  and  down  the  river. 
The  air  coldish,  the  wind  strong. 

We  asked  the  turnpike  man  to  let  us  have  some  meal  and 
water.  He  had  no  meal,  but  luckily  we  had  part  of  a  feed 
of  corn  brought  from  Keswick,  and  he  procured  some  hay 
at  a  neighbouring  house.  In  the  meantime  I  went  into  the 
house,  where  was  an  old  man  with  a  grey  plaid  over  his 
shoulders,  reading  a  newspaper.  On  the  shelf  lay  a  volume 
of  the  Scotch  Encyclopaedia,  a  History  of  England,  and  some 
other  books.  The  old  man  was  a  caller  by  the  way.  The 
man  of  the  house  came  back,  and  we  began  to  talk.  He  was 
very  intelligent ;  had  travelled  all  over  England,  Scotland, 
and  Ireland  as  a  gentleman's  servant,  and  now  lived  alone  in 
that  lonesome  place.  He  said  he  was  tired  of  his  bargain, 
for  he  feared  he  should  lose  by  it.  And  he  had  indeed 
a  troublesome  office,  for  coal-carts  without  number  were 
passing  by,  and  the  drivers  seemed  to  do  their  utmost  to 
cheat  him.  There  is  always  something  peculiar  in  the 
house  of  a  man  living  alone.  This  was  but  half- furnished, 
yet  nothing  seemed  wanting  for  his  comfort,  though  a  female 
who  had  travelled  half  as  far  would  have  needed  fifty  other 
things.  He  had  no  other  meat  or  drink  in  the  house  but 
oat  bread  and  cheese — the  cheese  was  made  with  the  addi- 
tion of  seeds — and  some  skimmed  milk.  He  gave  us  of 
his  bread  and  cheese,  and  milk,  which  proved  to  be  sour. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  13 

We  had  yet  ten  or  eleven  miles  to  travel,  and  no  food 
with  us.  William  lay  under  the  wind  in  a  corn-field  be- 
low the  house,  being  not  well  enough  to  partake  of  the 
milk  and  bread.  Coleridge  gave  our  host  a  pamphlet, 
'  The  Crisis  of  the  Sugar  Colonies ; '  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  Burns's  poems.  There  was  a  politeness  and  a  manly 
freedom  in  this  man's  manners  which  pleased  me  very 
much.  He  told  us  that  he  had  served  a  gentleman,  a 
captain  in  the  army — he  did  not  know  who  he  was,  for 
none  of  his  relations  had  ever  come  to  see  him,  but  he  used 
to  receive  many  letters — that  he  had  lived  near  Dumfries 
till  they  would  let  him  stay  no  longer,  he  made  such  havoc 
with  the  game  ;  his  whole  delight  from  morning  till  night, 
and  the  long  year  through,  was  in  field  sports ;  he  would 
be  on  his  feet  the  worst  days  in  winter,  and  wade  through 
snow  up  to  the  middle  after  his  game.  If  he  had  company 
he  was  in  tortures  till  they  were  gone ;  he  would  then  throw 
off  his  coat  and  put  on  an  old  jacket  not  worth  half-a-crown. 
He  drank  his  bottle  of  wine  every  day,  and  two  if  he  had 
better  sport  than  usual.  Ladies  sometimes  came  to  stay 
with  his  wife,  and  he  often  carried  them  out  in  an  Irish 
jaunting-car,  and  if  they  vexed  him  he  would  choose  the 
dirtiest  roads  possible,  and  spoil  their  clothes  by  jumping 
in  and  out  of  the  car,  and  treading  upon  them.  '  But  for 
all  that ' — and  so  he  ended  all — '  he  was  a  good  fellow,  and 
a  clever  fellow,  and  he  liked  him  well.'  He  would  have 
ten  or  a  dozen  hares  in  the  larder  at  once,  he  half  main- 
tained his  family  with  game,  and  he  himself  was  very  fond 
of  eating,  of  the  spoil — unusual  with  true  heart-and-soul 
sportsmen. 

The  man  gave  us  an  account  of  his  farm  where  he  had 
lived,  which  was  so  cheap  and  pleasant  that  we  thought 


14  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

we  should  have  liked  to  have  had  it  ourselves.  Soon 
after  leaving  the  turnpike  house  we  turned  up  a  hill  to 
the  right,  the  road  for  a  little  way  very  steep,  bare  hills, 
with  sheep. 

After  ascending  a  little  while  we  heard  the  murmur  of  a 
stream  far  below  us,  and  saw  it  flowing  downwards  on 
our  left,  towards  the  Nith,  and  before  us,  between  steep 
green  hills,  coming  along  a  winding  valley.  The  simplicity 
of  the  prospect  impressed  us  very  much.  There  was  a 
single  cottage  by  the  brook  side  ;  the  dell  was  not  heathy, 
but  it  was  impossible  not  to  think  of  Peter  Bell's  High- 
land Girl. 

We  now  felt  indeed  that  we  were  in  Scotland ;  there 
was  a  natural  peculiarity  in  this  place.  In  the  scenes 
of  the  Nith  it  had  not  been  the  same  as  England,  but 
yet  not  simple,  naked  Scotland.  The  road  led  us  down 
the  hill,  and  now  there  was  no  room  in  the  vale  but  for 
the  river  and  the  road ;  we  had  sometimes  the  stream  to 
the  right,  sometimes  to  the  left.  The  hills  were  pastoral, 
but  we  did  not  see  many  sheep  ;  green  smooth  turf  on  the 
left,  no  ferns.  On  the  right  the  heath-plant  grew  in  abun- 
dance, of  the  most  exquisite  colour;  it  covered  a  whole  hill- 
side, or  it  was  in  streams  and  patches.  We  travelled  along 
the  vale  without  appearing  to  ascend  for  some  miles ;  all 
the  reaches  were  beautiful,  in  exquisite  proportion,  the  hills 
seeming  very  high  from  being  so  near  to  us.  It  might  have 
seemed  a  valley  which  nature  had  kept  to  herself  for  pen- 
sive thoughts  and  tender  feelings,  but  that  we  were  reminded 
at  every  turning  of  the  road  of  something  beyond  by  the 
coal- carts  which  were  travelling  towards  us.  Though  these 
carts  broke  in  upon  the  tranquillity  of  the  glen,  they  added 
much  to  the  picturesque  effect  of  the  different  views,  which 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  15 

indeed  wanted  nothing,  though  perfectly  bare,  houseless, 
and  treeless. 

After  some  time  our  road  took  us  upwards  towards 
the  end  of  the  valley.  Now  the  steeps  were  heathy 
all  around.  Just  as  we  began  to  climb  the  hill,  we  saw 
three  boys  who  came  down  the  cleft  of  a  brow  on  our  left ; 
one  carried  a  fishing-rod,  and  the  hats  of  all  were  braided 
with  honeysuckles ;  they  ran  after  one  another  as  wanton 
as  the  wind.  I  cannot  express  what  a  character  of  beauty 
those  few  honeysuckles  in  the  hats  of  the  three  boys  gave 
to  the  place  :  what  bower  could  they  have  come  from?  We 
walked  up  the  hill,  met  two  well-dressed  travellers,  the 
woman  barefoot.  Our  little  lads  before  they  had  gone  far 
were  joined  by  some  half-dozen  of  their  companions,  all 
without  shoes  and  stockings.  They  told  us  they  lived  at 
Wanlockhead,  the  village  above,  pointing  to  the  top  of 
the  hill ;  they  went  to  school  and  learned  Latin,  Virgil, 
and  some  of  them  Greek,  Homer,  but  when  Coleridge 
began  to  inquire  further,  off  they  ran,  poor  things !  I 
suppose  afraid  of  being  examined. 

When,  after  a  steep  ascent,  we  had  reached  the  top  of 
the  hill,  we  saw  a  village  about  half  a  mile  before  us, 
on  the  side  of  another  hill,  which  rose  up  above  the 
spot  where  we  were,  after  a  descent,  a  sort  of  valley  or 
hollow.  Nothing  grew  upon  this  ground,  or  the  hills 
above  or  below,  but  heather,  yet  round  about  the  village 
—which  consisted  of  a  great  number  of  huts,  all  alike, 
and  all  thatched,  with  a  few  larger  slated  houses  among 
them,  and  a  single  modern  built  one  of  a  considerable 
size  —were  a  hundred  patches  of  cultivated  ground, 
potatoes,  oats,  hay,  and  grass.  We  were  struck  with 
the  sight  of  haycocks  fastened  down  with  aprons,  sheets, 


16  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

pieces  of  sacking — as  we  supposed,  to  prevent  the  wind 
from  blowing  them  away.  We  afterwards  found  that 
this  practice  was  very  general  in  Scotland.  Every  cottage 
seemed  to  have  its  little  plot  of  ground,  fenced  by  a 
ridge  of  earth;  this  plot  contained  two  or  three  differ- 
ent divisions,  kail,  potatoes,  oats,  hay ;  the  houses  all 
standing  in  lines,  or  never  far  apart ;  the  cultivated  ground 
was  all  together  also,  and  made  a  very  strange  appearance 
with  its  many  greens  among  the  dark  brown  hills,  neither 
tree  nor  shrub  growing;  yet  the  grass  and  the  potatoes 
looked  greener  than  elsewhere,  owing  to  the  bareness  of  the 
neighbouring  hills;  it  was  indeed  a  wild  and  singular 
spot — to  use  a  woman's  illustration,  like  a  collection  of 
patchwork,  made  of  pieces  as  they  might  have  chanced  to 
have  been  cut  by  the  mantua-maker,  only  just  smoothed  to 
fit  each  other,  the  different  sorts  of  produce  being  in  such 
a  multitude  of  plots,  and  those  so  small  and  of  such  irregu- 
lar shapes.  Add  to  the  strangeness  of  the  village  itself, 
that  we  had  been  climbing  upwards,  though  gently,  for 
many  miles,  and  for  the  last  mile  and  a  half  up  a  steep 
ascent,  and  did  not  know  of  any  village  till  we  saw  the 
boys  who  had  come  out  to  play.  The  air  was  very  cold, 
and  one  could  not  help  thinking  what  it  must  be  in  winter, 
when  those  hills,  now  'red  brown,'  should  have  their 
three  months'  covering  of  snow. 

The  village,  as  we  guessed,  is  inhabited  by  miners ;  the 
mines  belong  to  the  Duke  of  Queensberry.  The  road  to  the 
village,  down  which  the  lads  scampered  away,  was  straight 
forward.  I  must  mention  that  we  met,  just  after  we  had 
parted  from  them,  another  little  fellow,  about  six  years 
old,  carrying  a  bundle  over  his  shoulder ;  he  seemed  poor 
and  half-starved,  and  was  scratching  his  fingers,  which  were 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  17 

covered  with  the  itch.  He  was  a  miner's  son,  and  lived  at 
Wanlockhead ;  did  not  go  to  school,  but  this  was  probably 
on  account  of  his  youth.  I  mention  him  because  he  seemed 
to  be  a  proof  that  there  was  poverty  and  wretchedness 
among  these  people,  though  we  saw  no  other  symptom  of 
it )  and  afterwards  we  met  scores  of  the  inhabitants  of  this 
same  village.  Our  road  turned  to  the  right,  and  we  saw, 
at  the  distance  of  less  than  a  mile,  a  tall  upright  building 
of  grey  stone,  with  several  men  standing  upon  the  roof,  as 
if  they  were  looking  out  over  battlements.  It  stood 
beyond  the  village,  upon  higher  ground,  as  if  presiding  over 
it, — a  kind  of  enchanter's  castle,  which  it  might  have  been, 
a  place  where  Don  Quixote  would  have  gloried  in.  When 
we  drew  nearer  we  saw,  coming  out  of  the  side  of  the 
building,  a  large  machine  or  lever,  in  appearance  like  a 
great  forge-hammer,  as  we  supposed  for  raising  water  out 
of  the  mines.  It  heaved  upwards  once  in  half  a  minute 
with  a  slow  motion,  and  seemed  to  rest  to  take  breath 
at  the  bottom,  its  motion  being  accompanied  with  a  sound 
between  a  groan  and  '  jike.'  There  would  have  been  some- 
thing in  this  object  very  striking  in  any  place,  as  it  was 
impossible  not  to  invest  the  machine  with  some  faculty 
of  intellect ;  it  seemed  to  have  made  the  first  step  from 
brute  matter  to  life  and  purpose,  showing  its  progress 
by  great  power.  William  made  a  remark  to  this  effect, 
and  Coleridge  observed  that  it  was  like  a  giant  with 
one  idea.  At  all  events,  the  object  produced  a  striking 
effect  in  that  place,  where  everything  was  in  unison  with  it 
— particularly  the  building  itself,  which  was  turret-shaped, 
and  with  the  figures  upon  it  resembled  much  one  of  the 
fortresses  in  the  wooden  cuts  of  Bunyan's  '  Holy  War.' 
After  ascending  a  considerable  way  we  began  to  descend 
B 


18  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

again  ;  and  now  we  met  a  team  of  horses  dragging 
an  immense  tree  to  the  lead  mines,  to  repair  or  add 
to  the  building,  and  presently  after  we  came  to  a  cart, 
with  another  large  tree,  and  one  horse  left  in  it,  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  highway.  We  were  a  little  out  of 
humour,  thinking  we  must  wait  till  the  team  came  back. 
There  were  men  and  boys  without  number  all  staring  at 
us ;  after  a  little  consultation  they  set  their  shoulders  to 
the  cart,  and  with  a  good  heave  all  at  once  they  moved  it, 
and  we  passed  along.  These  people  were  decently  dressed, 
and  their  manners  decent ;  there  was  no  hooting  or  im- 
pudent laughter.  Leadhills,  another  mining  village,  was 
the  place  of  our  destination  for  the  night ;  and  soon  after 
we  had  passed  the  cart  we  came  in  sight  of  it.  This 
village  and  the  mines  belong  to  Lord  Hopetoun ;  it  has 
more  stone  houses  than  Wanlockhead,  one  large  old  man- 
sion, and  a  considerable  number  of  old  trees — beeches,  I 
believe.  The  trees  told  of  the  coldness  of  the  climate ; 
they  were  more  brown  than  green — far  browner  than  the 
ripe  grass  of  the  little  hay-garths.  Here,  as  at  Wanlockhead, 
were  haycocks,  hay-stacks,  potato-beds,  and  kail-garths  in 
every  possible  variety  of  shape,  but,  I  suppose  from  the  ir- 
regularity of  the  ground,  it  looked  far  less  artificial — indeed, 
I  should  think  that  a  painter  might  make  several  beauti- 
ful pictures  in  this  village.  It  straggles  down  both  sides 
of  a  mountain  glen.  As  I  have  said,  there  is  a  large  man- 
sion. There  is  also  a  stone  building  that  looks  like  a 
school,  and  the  houses  are  single,  or  in  clusters,  or  rows 
as  it  may  chance. 

We  passed  a  decent-looking  inn,  the  Hopetoun  Arms ; 
but  the  house  of  Mrs.  Otto,  a  widow,  had  been  recom- 
mended to  us  with  high  encomiums.  We  did  not  then 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND,  19 

understand  Scotch  inns,  and  were  not  quite  satisfied  at 
first  with  our  accommodations,  but  all  things  were  smoothed 
over  by  degrees;  we  had  a  fire  lighted  in  our  dirty 
parlour,  tea  came  after  a  reasonable  waiting ;  and  the  fire 
with  the  gentle  aid  of  twilight,  burnished  up  the  room 
into  cheerful  comfort.  Coleridge  was  weary ;  but  WUliam 
and  I  walked  out  after  tea.  We  talked  with  one  of  the 
miners,  who  informed  us  that  the  building  which  we  had 
supposed  to  be  a  school  was  a  library  belonging  to  the 
village.  He  said  they  had  got  a  book  into  it  a  few  weeks 
ago,  which  had  cost  thirty  pounds,  and  that  they  had  all 
sorts  of  books.  'What!  have  you  Shakespeare1?'  'Yes, 
we  have  that,'  and  we  found,  on  further  inquiry,  that  they 
had  a  large  library,4  of  long  standing,  that  Lord  Hopetoun 
had  subscribed  liberally  to  it,  and  that  gentlemen  who 
came  with  him  were  in  the  habit  of  making  larger  or 
smaller  donations.  Each  man  who  had  the  benefit  of  it 
paid  a  small  sum  monthly — I  think  about  fourpence. 

The  man  we  talked  with  spoke  much  of  the  comfort  and 
quiet  in  which  they  lived  one  among  another ;  he  made  use 
of  a  noticeable  expression,  saying  that  they  were  'very 
peaceable  people  considering  they  lived  so  much  under- 
ground;'— wages  were  about  thirty  pounds  a  year;  they 
had  land  for  potatoes,  warm  houses,  plenty  of  coals,  and 
only  six  hours'  work  each  day,  so  that  they  had  leisure  for 
reading  if  they  chose.  He  said  the  place  was  healthy,  that 
the  inhabitants  lived  to  a  great  age ;  and  indeed  we  saw 
no  appearance  of  ill-health  in  their  countenances ;  but  it  is 
not  common  for  people  working  in  lead  mines  to  be  healthy ; 
and  I  have  since  heard  that  it  is  not  a  healthy  place.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  they  are  unwilling  to  allow  it ;  for  the 
landlady  the  next  morning,  when  I  said  to  her  '  You  have 


20  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

a  cold  climate,'  replied,  'Ay,  but  it  is  varra  halesome.' 
We  inquired  of  the  man  respecting  the  large  mansion; 
he  told  us  that  it  was  built,  as  we  might  see,  in  the  form 
of  an  H,  and  belonged  to  the  Hopetouns,  and  they  took 
their  title  from  thence,*  and  that  part  of  it  was  used  as  a 
chapel.  We  went  close  to  it,  and  were  a  good  deal  amused 
with  the  building  itself,  standing  forth  in  bold  contradiction 
of  the  story  which  I  daresay  every  man  of  Leadhills  tells, 
and  every  man  believes,  that  it  is  in  the  shape  of  an  H ;  it 
is  but  half  an  H,  and  one  must  be  very  accommodating  to 
allow  it  even  so  much,  for  the  legs  are  far  too  short. 

We  visited  the  burying-ground,  a  plot  of  land  not  very 
small,  crowded  with  graves,  and  upright  grave-stones,  over- 
looking the  village  and  the  dell.  It  was  now  the  closing  in 
of  evening.  Women  and  children  were  gathering  in  the 
linen  for  the  night,  which  was  bleaching  by  the  burn-side ; 
— the  graves  overgrown  with  grass,  such  as,  by  industrious 
culture,  had  been  raised  up  about  the  houses ;  but  there 
were  bunches  of  heather  here  and  there,  and  with  the 
blue-bells  that  grew  among  the  grass  the  small  plot  of 
ground  had  a  beautiful  and  wild  appearance. 

William  left  me,  and  I  went  to  a  shop  to  purchase  some 
thread ;  the  woman  had  none  that  suited  me ;  but  she  would 
send  a  '  wee  lad '  to  the  other  shop.  In  the  meantime  I 
sat  with  the  mother,  and  was  much  pleased  with  her 
manner  and  conversation.  She  had  an  excellent  fire,  and  her 
cottage,  though  very  small,  looked  comfortable  and  cleanly ; 
but  remember  I  saw  it  only  by  firelight.  She  confirmed 
what  the  man  had  told  us  of  the  quiet  manner  in  which 
they  lived ;  and  indeed  her  house  and  fireside  seemed  to  need 

*  There  is  some  mistake  here.  The  Hopetoun  title  was  not  taken  from 
any  place  in  the  Leadhills,  much  less  from  the  house  shaped  like  an  H. — Ed. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  21 

nothing  to  make  it  a  cheerful  happy  spot,  but  health  and  good 
humour.  There  was  a  bookishness,  a  certain  formality  in 
this  woman's  language,  which  was  very  remarkable.  She 
had  a  dark  complexion,  dark  eyes,  and  wore  a  very 
white  cap,  much  over  her  face,  which  gave  her  the 
look  of  a  French  woman,  and  indeed  afterwards  the 
women  on  the  roads  frequently  reminded  us  of  French 
women,  partly  from  the  extremely  white  caps  of  the  elder 
women,  and  still  more  perhaps  from  a  certain  gaiety  and 
party-coloured  appearance  in  their  dress  in  general.  White 
bed-gowns  are  very  common,  and  you  rarely  meet  a  young 
girl  with  either  hat  or  cap ;  they  buckle  up  their  hair  often 
in  a  graceful  manner. 

I  returned  to  the  inn,  and  went  into  the  kitchen 
to  speak  with  the  landlady;  she  had  made  a  hundred 
hesitations  when  I  told  her  we  wanted  three  beds.  At 
last  she  confessed  she  Jiad  three  beds,  and  showed  me 
into  a  parlour  which  looked  damp  and  cold,  but  she  as- 
sured me  in  a  tone  that  showed  she  was  unwilling  to  be 
questioned  further,  that  all  her  beds  were  well  aired.  I  sat 
a  while  by  the  kitchen  fire  with  the  landlady,  and  began 
to  talk  to  her ;  but,  much  as  I  had  heard  in  her  praise — for 
the  shopkeeper  had  told  me  she  was  a  varra  discreet 
woman — I  cannot  say  that  her  manners  pleased  me  much. 
But  her  servant  made  amends,  for  she  was  as  pleasant  and 
cheerful  a  lass  as  was  ever  seen ;  and  when  we  asked  her 
to  do  anything,  she  answered,  '  Oh  yes,'  with  a  merry 
smile,  and  almost  ran  to  get  us  what  we  wanted.  She  was 
about  sixteen  years  old :  wore  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
had  her  hair  tucked  up  with  a  comb.  The  servant  at 
Brownhill  was  a  coarse-looking  wench,  barefoot  and  bare- 
legged. I  examined  the  kitchen  round  about;  it  was 


22  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

crowded  with  furniture,  drawers,  cupboards,  dish-covers, 
pictures,  pans,  and  pots,  arranged  without  order,  except 
that  the  plates  were  on  shelves,  and  the  dish-covers  hung 
in  rows ;  these  were  very  clean,  but  floors,  passages,  stair- 
case, everything  else  dirty.  There  were  two  beds  in 
recesses  in  the  wall ;  above  one  of  them  I  noticed  a  shelf 
with  some  books  : — it  made  me  think  of  Chaucer's  Clerke 
of  Oxenforde : — 

'  Liever  had  he  at  his  bed's  head 
Twenty  books  clothed  in  bkck  and  red.' 

They  were  baking  oat-bread,  which  they  cut  into  quar- 
ters, and  half-baked  over  the  fire,  and  half-toasted  before 
it.  There  was  a  suspiciousness  about  Mrs.  Otto,  almost 
like  ill-nature ;  she  was  very  jealous  of  any  inquiries  that 
might  appear  to  be  made  with  the  faintest  idea  of  a  com- 
parison between  Leadhills  and  any  other  place,  except  the 
advantage  was  evidently  on  the  side  of  Leadhills.  We 
had  nice  honey  to  breakfast.  When  ready  to  depart,  we 
learned  that  we  might  have  seen  the  library,  which  we  had 
not  thought  of  till  it  was  too  late,  and  we  were  very  sorry 
to  go  away  without  seeing  it. 

Saturday,  August  20th. — Left  Leadhills  at  nine  o'clock, 
regretting  much  that  we  could  not  stay  another  day,  that 
we  might  have  made  more  minute  inquiries  respecting  the 
manner  of  living  of  the  miners,  and  been  able  to  form 
an  estimate,  from  our  own  observation,  of  the  degree  of 
knowledge,  health,  and  comfort  that  there  was  among  them. 
The  air  was  keen  and  cold ;  we  might  have  supposed  it  to 
be  three  months  later  in  the  season  and  two  hours  earlier 
in  the  day.  The  landlady  had  not  lighted  us  a  fire ;  so 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  23 

I  was  obliged  to  get  myself  toasted  in  the  kitchen,  and 
when  we  set  off  I  put  on  both  grey  cloak  and  spencer. 

Our  road  carried  us  down  the  valley,  and  we  soon  lost 
sight  of  Leadhills,  for  the  valley  made  a  turn  almost 
immediately,  and  we  saw  two  miles,  perhaps,  before  us ; 
the  glen  sloped  somewhat  rapidly — heathy,  bare,  no  hut  or 
house.  Passed  by  a  shepherd,  who  was  sitting  upon  the 
ground,  reading,  with  the  book  on  his  knee,  screened  from 
the  wind  by  his  plaid,  while  a  flock  of  sheep  were  feeding 
near  him  among  the  rushes  and  coarse  grass — for,  as  we 
descended  we  came  among  lands  where  grass  grew  with 
the  heather.  Travelled  through  several  reaches  of  the 
glen,  which  somewhat  resembled  the  valley  of  Menock  on 
the  other  side  of  Wanlockhead;  but  it  was  not  near  so 
beautiful;  the  forms  of  the  mountains  did  not  melt  so 
exquisitely  into  each  other,  and  there  was  a  coldness,  and, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  a  want  of  simplicity  in  the  surface  of 
the  earth ;  the  heather  was  poor,  not  covering  a  whole  hill- 
side ;  not  in  luxuriant  streams  and  beds  interveined  with 
rich  verdure ;  but  patchy  and  stunted,  with  here  and  there 
coarse  grass  and  rushes.  But  we  soon  came  in  sight  of  a 
spot  that  impressed  us  very  much.  At  the  lower  end  of 
this  new  reach  of  the  vale  was  a  decayed  tree,  beside  a 
decayed  cottage,  the  vale  spreading  out  into  a  level  area 
which  was  one  large  field,  without  fence  and  without 
division,  of  a  dull  yellow  colour ;  the  vale  seemed  to  par- 
take of  the  desolation  of  the  cottage,  and  to  participate  in 
its  decay.  And  yet  the  spot  was  in  its  nature  so  dreary 
that  one  would  rather  have  wondered  how  it  ever  came  to 
be  tenanted  by  man,  than  lament  that  it  was  left  to  waste 
and  solitude.  Yet  the  encircling  hills  were  so  exquisitely 
formed  that  it  was  impossible  to  conceive  anything  more 


24  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

lovely  than  this  place  would  have  been  if  the  valley  and 
hill-sides  had  been  interspersed  with  trees,  cottages,  green 
fields,  and  hedgerows.  But  all  was  desolate ;  the  one  large 
field  which  filled  up  the  area  of  the  valley  appeared,  as  I 
have  said,  in  decay,  and  seemed  to  retain  the  memory  of 
its  connexion  with  man  in  some  way  analogous  to  the 
ruined  building ;  for  it  was  as  much  of  a  field  as  Mr.  King's 
best  pasture  scattered  over  with  his  fattest  cattle. 

We  went  on,  looking  before  us,  the  place  losing  nothing 
of  its  hold  upon  our  minds,  when  we  discovered  a  woman 
sitting  right  in  the  middle  of  the  field,  alone,  wrapped 
up  in  a  grey  cloak  or  plaid.  She  sat  motionless  all  the 
time  we  looked  at  her,  which  might  be  nearly  half  an 
hour.  "We  could  not  conceive  why  she  sat  there,  for 
there  were  neither  sheep  nor  cattle  in  the  field  ;  her  ap- 
pearance was  very  melancholy.  In  the  meantime  our  road 
carried  us  nearer  to  the  cottage,  though  we  were  crossing 
over  the  hill  to  the  left,  leaving  the  valley  below  us,  and 
we  perceived  that  a  part  of  the  building  was  inhabited,  and 
that  what  we  had  supposed  to  be  one,  blasted  tree  was 
eight  trees,  four  of  which  were  entirely  blasted ;  the  others 
partly  so,  and  round  about  the  place  was  a  little  potato 
and  cabbage  garth,  fenced  with  earth.  No  doubt,  that 
woman  had  been  an  inhabitant  of  the  cottage.  However 
this  might  be,  there  was  so  much  obscurity  and  uncertainty 
about  her,  and  her  figure  agreed  so  well  with  the  desolation 
of  the  place,  that  we  were  indebted  to  the  chance  of  her 
being  there  for  some  of  the  most  interesting  feelings  that 
we  had  ever  had  from  natural  objects  connected  with  man 
in  dreary  solitariness. 

We  had  been  advised  to  go  along  the  new  road,  which 
would  have  carried  us  down  the  vale ;  but  we  met  some 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  25 

travellers  who  recommended  us  to  climb  the  hill,  and  go 
by  the  village  of  Crawfordjohn  as  being  much  nearer. 
We  had  a  long  hill,  and  after  having  reached  the  top,  steep 
and  bad  roads,  so  we  continued  to  walk  for  a  considerable 
way.  The  air  was  cold  and  clear — the  sky  blue.  We 
walked  cheerfully  along  in  the  sunshine,  each  of  us  alone, 
only  William  had  the  charge  of  the  horse  and  car,  so  he 
sometimes  took  a  ride,  which  did  but  poorly  recompense 
him  for  the  trouble  of  driving.  I  never  travelled  with 
more  cheerful  spirits  than  this  day.  Our  road  was  along 
the  side  of  a  high  moor.  I  can  always  walk  over  a  moor 
with  a  light  foot;  I  seem  to  be  drawn  more  closely  to 
nature  in  such  places  than  anywhere  else ;  or  rather  I  feel 
more  strongly  the  power  of  nature  over  me,  and  am  better 
satisfied  with  myself  for  being  able  to  find  enjoyment  in 
what  unfortunately  to  many  persons  is  either  dismal  or 
insipid.  This  moor,  however,  was  more  than  commonly 
interesting ;  we  could  see  a  long  way,  and  on  every  side  of 
us  were  larger  or  smaller  tracts  of  cultivated  land.  Some 
were  extensive  farms,  yet  in  so  large  a  waste  they  did  but 
look  small,  with  farm-houses,  barns,  etc.,  others  like  little 
cottages,  with  enough  to  feed  a  cow,  and  supply  the  family 
with  vegetables.  In  looking  at  these  farms  we  had  always 
one  feeling.  Why  did  the  plough  stop  there  \  Why 
might  not  they  as  well  have  carried  it  twice  as  far  1  There 
were  no  hedgerows  near  the  farms,  and  very  few  trees.  As 
we  were  passing  along,  we  saw  an  old  man,  the  first  we 
had  seen  in  a  Highland  bonnet,  walking  with  a  staff  at  a 
very  slow  pace  by  the  edge  of  one  of  the  moorland  corn- 
fields ;  he  wore  a  grey  plaid,  and  a  dog  was  by  his  side. 
There  was  a  scriptural  solemnity  in  this  man's  figure,  a 
sober  simplicity  which  was  most  impressive.  Scotland 


26  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

is  the  country  above  all  others  that  I  have  seen,  in  which 
a  man  of  imagination  may  carve  out  his  own  pleasures. 
There  are  so  many  inhabited  solitudes,  and  the  employments 
of  the  people  are  so  immediately  connected  with  the  places 
where  you  find  them,  and  their  dresses  so  simple,  so  much 
alike,  yet,  from  their  being  folding  garments,  admitting  of 
an  endless  variety,  and  falling  often  so  gracefully. 

After  some  time  we  descended  towards  a  broad  vale, 
passed  one  farm-house,  sheltered  by  fir  trees,  with  a  burn 
close  to  it ;  children  playing,  linen  bleaching.  The  vale 
was  open  pastures  and  corn-fields  unfenced,  the  land  poor. 
The  village  of  Crawfordjohn  on  the  slope  of  a  hill  a  long 
way  before  us  to  the  left.  Asked  about  our  road  of  a  man 
who  was  driving  a  cart ;  he  told  us  to  go  through  the  vil- 
lage, then  along  some  fields,  and  we  should  come  to  a 
*  herd's  house  by  the  burn  side.'  The  highway  was  right 
through  the  vale,  unfenced  on  either  side ;  the  people  of 
the  village,  who  were  making  hay,  all  stared  at  us  and  our 
carriage.  We  inquired  the  road  of  a  middle-aged  man, 
dressed  in  a  shabby  black  coat,  at  work  in  one  of  the  hay 
fields ;  he  looked  like  the  minister  of  the  place,  and  when 
he  spoke  we  felt  assured  that  he  was  so,  for  he  was  not 
sparing  of  hard  words,  which,  however,  he  used  with  great 
propriety,  and  he  spoke  like  one  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  dictate.  Our  car  wanted  mending  in  the  wheel,  and  we 
asked  him  if  there  was  a  blacksmith  in  the  village.  '  Yes,' 
he  replied,  but  when  we  showed  him  the  wheel  he  told 
William  that  he  might  mend  it  himself  without  a  black- 
smith, and  he  would  put  him  in  the  way;  so  he  fetched 
hammer  and  nails  and  gave  his  directions,  which  William 
obeyed,  and  repaired  the  damage  entirely  to  his  own  satis- 
faction and  the  priest's,  who  did  not  offer  to  lend  any 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  27 

assistance  himself ;  not  as  if  he  would  not  have  been  willing 
in  case  of  need ;  but  as  if  it  were  more  natural  for  him  to 
dictate,  and  because  he  thought  it  more  fit  that  William 
should  do  it  himself.  He  spoke  much  about  the  propriety 
of  every  man's  lending  all  the  assistance  in  his  power  to 
travellers,  and  with  some  ostentation  or  self-praise.  Here 
I  observed  a  honey-suckle  and  some  flowers  growing  in  a 
garden,  the  first  I  had  seen  in  Scotland.  It  is  a  pretty 
cheerful-looking  village,  but  must  be  very  cold  in  winter ; 
it  stands  on  a  hillside,  and  the  vale  itself  is  very  high 
ground,  unsheltered  by  trees. 

Left  the  village  behind  us,  and  our  road  led  through 
arable  ground  for  a  considerable  way,  on  which  were  grow- 
ing very  good  crops  of  corn  and  potatoes.  Our  friend 
accompanied  us  to  show  us  the  way,  and  Coleridge  and  he 
had  a  scientific  conversation  concerning  the  uses  and  pro- 
perties of  lime  and  other  manures.  He  seemed  to  be  a 
well-informed  man ;  somewhat  pedantic  in  his  manners ; 
but  this  might  be  only  the  difference  between  Scotch  and 
English.* 

Soon  after  he  had  parted  from  us,  we  came  upon  a  stony, 
rough  road  over  a  black  moor ;  and  presently  to  the  '  herd's 
house  by  the  burn  side.'  We  could  hardly  cross  the  burn 
dry-shod,  over  which  was  the  only  road  to  the  cottage.  In 
England  there  would  have  been  stepping-stones  or  a  bridge; 
but  the  Scotch  need  not  be  afraid  of  wetting  their  bare  feet. 
The  hut  had  its  little  kail-garth  fenced  with  earth ;  there 
was  no  other  enclosure — but  the  common,  heathy  with 
coarse  grass.  Travelled  along  the  common  for  some  miles, 
before  we  joined  the  great  road  from  Longtown  to  Glasgow 
— saw  on  the  bare  hill-sides  at  a  distance,  sometimes  a 
*  Probably  the  Rev.  John  Aird,  minister  of  the  parish,  1801-1815. 


28  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

solitary  farm,  now  and  then  a  plantation,  and  one  very 
large  wood,  with  an  appearance  of  richer  ground  above ; 
but  it  was  so  very  high  we  could  not  think  it  possible. 
Having  descended  considerably,  the  common  was  no  longer 
of  a  peat-mossy  brown  heath  colour,  but  grass  with  rushes 
was  its  chief  produce ;  there  was  sometimes  a  solitary  hut, 
no  enclosures  except  the  kail-garth,  and  sheep  pasturing  in 
flocks,  with  shepherd-boys  tending  them.  I  remember  one 
boy  in  particular ;  he  had  no  hat  on,  and  only  had  a  grey 
plaid  wrapped  about  him.  It  is  nothing  to  describe,  but  on 
a  bare  moor,  alone  with  his  sheep,  standing,  as  he  did,  in 
utter  quietness  and  silence,  there  was  something  uncom- 
monly impressive  in  his  appearance,  a  solemnity  which  re- 
called to  our  minds  the  old  man  in  the  corn-field.  We 
passed  many  people  who  were  mowing,  or  raking  the  grass 
of  the  common ;  it  was  little  better  than  rushes ;  but  they 
did  not  mow  straight  forward,  only  here  and  there,  where  it 
was  the  best ;  in  such  a  place  hay-cocks  had  an  uncommon 
appearance  to  us. 

After  a  long  descent  we  came  to  some  plantations  which 
were  not  far  from  Douglas  Mill.  The  country  for  some 
time  had  been  growing  into  cultivation,  and  now  it  was  a 
wide  vale  with  large  tracts  of  corn ;  trees  in  clumps,  no 
hedgerows,  which  always  make  a  country  look  bare  and 
unlovely.  For  my  part,  I  was  better  pleased  with  the 
desert  places  we  had  left  behind,  though  no  doubt  the  in- 
habitants of  this  place  think  it  '  a  varra  bonny  spot,'  for  the 
Scotch  are  always  pleased  with  their  own  abode,  be  it  what 
it  may ;  and  afterwards  at  Edinburgh,  when  we  were  talking 
with  a  bookseller  of  our  travels,  he  observed  that  it  was  '  a 
fine  country  near  Douglas  Mill.'  Douglas  Mill  is  a  single 
house,  a  large  inn,  being  one  of  the  regular  stages  between 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  29 

Longtown  and  Glasgow,  and  therefore  a  fair  specimen  of 
the  best  of  the  country  inns  of  Scotland.  As  soon  as  our 
car  stopped  at  the  door  we  felt  the  difference.  At  an  English 
inn  of  this  size,  a  waiter,  or  the  master  or  mistress,  would 
have  been  at  the  door  immediately,  but  we  remained  some 
time  before  anybody  came ;  then  a  barefooted  lass  made 
her  appearance,  but  she  only  looked  at  us  and  went  away. 
The  mistress,  a  remarkably  handsome  woman,  showed  us 
into  a  large  parlour;  we  ordered  mutton-chops,  and  I 
finished  my  letter  to  Mary ;  writing  on  the  same  window- 
ledge  on  which  William  had  written  to  me  two  years  before. 
After  dinner,  William  and  I  sat  by  a  little  mill-race  in 
the  garden.  We  had  left  Leadhills  and  Wanlockhead 
far  above  us,  and  now  were  come  into  a  warmer  climate ; 
but  there  was  no  richness  in  the  face  of  the  country.  The 
shrubs  looked  cold  and  poor,  and  yet  there  were  some  very 
fine  trees  within  a  little  distance  of  Douglas  Mill,  so  that 
the  reason,  perhaps,  why  the  few  low  shrubs  and  trees 
which  were  growing  in  the  gardens  seemed  to  be  so  un- 
luxuriant,  might  be,  that  there  being  no  hedgerows,  the 
general  appearance  of  the  country  was  naked,  and  I  could 
not  help  seeing  the  same  coldness  where,  perhaps,  it  did  not 
exist  in  itself  to  any  great  degree,  for  the  corn  crops  are 
abundant,  and  I  should  think  the  soil  is  not  bad.  While  we 
were  sitting  at  the  door,  two  of  the  landlady's  children  came 
out ;  the  elder,  a  boy  about  six  years  old,  was  running  away 
from  his  little  brother,  in  petticoats ;  the  ostler  called  out, 
'  Sandy,  tak'  your  wee  brither  wi'  you ; '  another  voice  from 
the  window,  '  Sawny,  dinna  leave  your  wee  brither ; '  the 
mother  then  came, '  Alexander,  tak'  your  wee  brother  by  the 
hand ; '  Alexander  obeyed,  and  the  two  went  off  in  peace 
together.  We  were  charged  eightpence  for  hay  at  this  inn, 


30  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

another  symptom  of  our  being  in  Scotland.  Left  Douglas 
Mill  at  about  three  o'clock ;  travelled  through  an  open  corn 
country,  the  tracts  of  corn  large  and  unenclosed.  We  often 
passed  women  or  children  who  were  watching  a  single  cow 
while  it  fed  upon  the  slips  of  grass  between  the  corn. 
William  asked  a  strong  woman,  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
who  looked  like  the  mistress  of  a  family — I  suppose  moved 
by  some  sentiment  of  compassion  for  her  being  so  employed, 
— if  the  cow  would  eat  the  corn  if  it  were  left  to  itself :  she 
smiled  at  his  simplicity.  It  is  indeed  a  melancholy  thing 
to  see  a  full-grown  woman  thus  waiting,  as  it  were,  body 
and  soul  devoted  to  the  poor  beast ;  yet  even  this  is  better 
than  working  in  a  manufactory  the  day  through. 

We  came  to  a  moorish  tract ;  saw  before  us  the  hills  of 
Loch  Lomond,  Ben  Lomond  and  another,  distinct  each  by 
itself.  Not  far  from  the  roadside  were  some  benches 
placed  in  rows  in  the  middle  of  a  large  field,  with  a  sort  of 
covered  shed  like  a  sentry-box,  but  much  more  like  those 
boxes  which  the  Italian  puppet-showmen  in  London  use. 
We  guessed  that  it  was  a  pulpit  or  tent  for  preaching,  and 
were  told  that  a  sect  met  there  occasionally,  who  held  that 
toleration  was  unscriptural,  and  would  have  all  religions 
but  their  own  exterminated.  I  have  forgotten  what  name 
the  man  gave  to  this  sect ;  we  could  not  learn  that  it  dif- 
fered in  any  other  respect  from  the  Church  of  Scotland. 
Travelled  for  some  miles  along  the  open  country,  which 
was  all  without  hedgerows,  sometimes  arable,  sometimes 
moorish,  and  often  whole  tracts  covered  with  grunsel.* 
There  was  one  field,  which  one  might  have  believed  had 
been  sown  with  grunsel,  it  was  so  regularly  covered  with 
it — a  large  square  field  upon  a  slope,  its  boundary  marked  to 
*  Ragweed. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  31 

our  eyes  only  by  the  termination  of  the  bright  yellow; 
contiguous  to  it  were  other  fields  of  the  same  size  and 
shape,  one  of  clover,  the  other  of  potatoes,  all  equally 
regular  crops.  The  oddness  of  this  appearance,  the  grunsel 
being  uncommonly  luxuriant,  and  the  field  as  yellow  as 
gold,  made  William  laugh.  Coleridge  was  melancholy  upon 
it,  observing  that  there  was  land  enough  wasted  to  rear  a 
healthy  child. 

We  left  behind  us,  considerably  to  the  right,  a  single  high 
mountain;*  I  have  forgotten  its  name;  we  had  had  it  long  in 
view.  Saw  before  us  the  river  Clyde,  its  course  at  right 
angles  to  our  road,  which  now  made  a  turn,  running  parallel 
with  the  river ;  the  town  of  Lanerk  in  sight  long  before 
we  came  to  it.  I  was  somewhat  disappointed  with  the 
first  view  of  the  Clyde  :5  the  banks,  though  swelling  and 
varied,  had  a  poverty  in  their  appearance,  chiefly  from  the 
want  of  wood  and  hedgerows.  Crossed  the  river  and 
ascended  towards  Lanerk,  which  stands  upon  a  hill.  When 
we  were  within  about  a  mile  of  the  town,  William  parted 
from  Coleridge  and  me,  to  go  to  the  celebrated  waterfalls. 
Coleridge  did  not  attempt  to  drive  the  horse  ;  but  led  him 
all  the  way.  We  inquired  for  the  best  inn,  and  were  told 
that  the  New  Inn  was  the  best ;  but  that  they  had  very 
'  genteel  apartments '  at  the  Black  Bull,  and  made  less 
charges,  and  the  Black  Bull  was  at  the  entrance  of  the 
town,  so  we  thought  we  would  stop  there,  as  the  horse  was 
obstinate  and  weary.  But  when  we  came  to  the  Black  Bull 
we  had  no  wish  to  enter  the  apartments ;  for  it  seemed  the 
abode  of  dirt  and  poverty,  yet  it  was  a  large  building. 
The  town  showed  a  sort  of  French  face,  and  would  have 
done  much  more,  had  it  not  been  for  the  true  British  tinge 
*Tinto. 


82  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

of  coal-smoke ;  the  doors  and  windows  dirty,  the  shops 
dull,  the  women  too  seemed  to  be  very  dirty  in  their  dress. 
The  town  itself  is  not  ugly ;  the  houses  are  of  grey  stone, 
the  streets  not  very  narrow,  and  the  market-place  decent. 
The  New  Inn  is  a  handsome  old  stone  building,  formerly  a 
gentleman's  house.  We  were  conducted  into  a  parlour, 
where  people  had  been  drinking ;  the  tables  were  unwiped, 
chairs  in  disorder,  the  floor  dirty,  and  the  smell  of  liquors 
was  most  offensive.  We  were  tired,  however,  and  rejoiced 
in  our  tea. 

The  evening  sun  was  now  sending  a  glorious  light  through 
the  street,  which  ran  from  west  to  east ;  the  houses  were  of 
a  fire  red,  and  the  faces  of  the  people  as  they  walked  west- 
ward were  almost  like  a  blacksmith  when  he  is  at  work 
by  night.  I  longed  to  be  out,  and  meet  with  William,  that 
we  might  see  the  Falls  before  the  day  was  gone.  Poor 
Coleridge  was  unwell,  and  could  not  go.  I  inquired  my 
road,  and  a  little  girl  told  me  she  would  go  with  me  to  the 
porter's  lodge,  where  I  might  be  admitted.  I  was  grieved 
to  hear  that  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde  were  shut  up  in  a 
gentleman's  grounds,  and  to  be  viewed  only  by  means  of 
lock  and  key.  Much,  however,  as  the  pure  feeling  with 
which  one  would  desire  to  visit  such  places  is  disturbed  by 
useless,  impertinent,  or  even  unnecessary  interference  with 
nature,  yet  when  I  was  there  the  next  morning  I  seemed 
to  feel  it  a  less  disagreeable  thing  than  in  smaller  and  more 
delicate  spots,  if  I  may  use  the  phrase.  My  guide,  a  sen- 
sible little  girl,  answered  my  inquiries  very  prettily.  She 
was  eight  years  old,  read  in  the  '  Collection,'  a  book 
which  all  the  Scotch  children  whom  I  have  questioned 
read  in.  I  found  it  was  a  collection  of  hymns ;  she  could 
repeat  several  of  Dr.  Watts'.  We  passed  through  a  great 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  33 

part  of  the  town,  then  turned  down  a  steep  hill,  and  came 
in  view  of  a  long  range  of  cotton  mills,*  the  largest  and 
loftiest  I  had  ever  seen ;  climbed  upwards  again,  our  road 
leading  us  along  the  top  of  the  left  bank  of  the  river ;  both 
banks  very  steep  and  richly  wooded.  The  girl  left  me  at 
the  porter's  lodge.  Having  asked  after  William,  I  was 
told  that  no  person  had  been  there,  or  could  enter  but  by 
the  gate.  The  night  was  coming  on,  therefore  1  did  not 
venture  to  go  in,  as  I  had  no  hope  of  meeting  William.  I 
had  a  delicious  walk  alone  through  the  wood ;  the  sound 
of  the  water  was  very  solemn,  and  even  the  cotton  mills  in 
the  fading  light  of  evening  had  somewhat  of  the  majesty 
and  stillness  of  the  natural  objects.  It  was  nearly  dark 
when  I  reached  the  inn.  I  found  Coleridge  sitting  by  a 
good  fire,  which  always  makes  an  inn  room  look  comfort- 
able. In  a  few  minutes  William  arrived;  he  had  heard 
of  me  at  the  gate,  and  followed  as  quickly  as  he  could, 
shouting  after  me.  He  was  pale  and  exceedingly  tired. 

After  he  had  left  us  he  had  taken  a  wrong  road,  and 
while  looking  about  to  set  himself  right  had  met  with  a 
barefooted  boy,  who  said  he  would  go  with  him.  The  little 
fellow  carried  him  by  a  wild  path  to  the  upper  of  the  Falls, 
the  Boniton  Linn,  and  coming  down  unexpectedly  upon 
it,  he  was  exceedingly  affected  by  the  solemn  grandeur  of 
the  place.  This  fall  is  not  much  admired  or  spoken  of  by 
travellers  ;  you  have  never  a  full,  breast  view  of  it ;  it  does 
not  make  a  complete  self-satisfying  place,  an  abode  of  its 
own,  as  a  perfect  waterfall  seems  to  me  to  do ;  but  the  river, 
down  which  you  look  through  a  long  vista  of  steep  and 
ruin-like  rocks,  the  roaring  of  the  waterfall,  and  the  solemn 
evening  lights,  must  have  been  most  impressive.  One  of 
the  rocks  on  the  near  bank,  even  in  broad  daylight,  as  we 
*  New  Lanark,  Robert  Owen's  mills. 
C 


34  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

saw  it  the  next  morning,  is  exactly  like  the  fractured  arch 
of  an  abbey.  With  the  lights  and  shadows  of  evening  upon 
it,  the  resemblance  must  have  been  much  more  striking. 

William's  guide  was  a  pretty  boy,  and  he  was  exceedingly 
pleased  with  him.  Just  as  they  were  quitting  the  waterfall, 
William's  mind  being  full  of  the  majesty  of  the  scene,  the 
little  fellow  pointed  to  the  top  of  a  rock, '  There 's  a  fine 
slae-bush  there.'  'Ay,'  said  William,  'but  there  are  no 
slaes  upon  it,'  which  was  true  enough ;  but  I  suppose  the 
child  remembered  the  slaes  of  another  summer,  though,  as 
he  said,  he  was  but  '  half  seven  years  old,'  namely,  six  and 
a  half.  He  conducted  William  to  the  other  fall,  and  as  they 
were  going  along  a  narrow  path,  they  came  to  a  small  cavern, 
where  William  lost  him,  and  looking  about,  saw  his  pretty 
figure  in  a  sort  of  natural  niche  fitted  for  a  statue,  from 
which  the  boy  jumped  out  laughing,  delighted  with  the 
success  of  his  trick.  William  told  us  a  great  deal  about 
him,  while  he  sat  by  the  fire,  and  of  the  pleasure  of  his 
walk,  often  repeating,  'I  wish  you  had  been  with  me.' 
Having  no  change,  he  gave  the  boy  sixpence,  which  was 
certainly,  if  he  had  formed  any  expectations  at  all,  far  be- 
yond them ;  but  he  received  it  with  the  utmost  indifference, 
without  any  remark  of  surprise  or  pleasure ;  most  likely  he 
did  not  know  how  many  halfpence  he  could  get  for  it,  and 
twopence  would  have  pleased  him  more.  My  little  girl 
was  delighted  with  the  sixpence  I  gave  her,  and  said  she 
would  buy  a  book  with  it  on  Monday  morning.  What  a 
difference  between  the  manner  of  living  and  education  of 
boys  and  of  girls  among  the  lower  classes  of  people  in  towns  ! 
she  had  never  seen  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde,  nor  had  ever  been 
further  than  the  porter's  lodge ;  the  boy,  I  daresay,  knew 
every  hiding-place  in  every  accessible  rock,  as  well  as  the 
fine  '  slae  bushes '  and  the  nut  trees. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  35 


SECOND    WEEK. 

Sunday,  August  21  st. — The  morning  was  very  hot,  a 
morning  to  tempt  us  to  linger  by  the  water-side.  I  wished 
to  have  had  the  day  before  us,  expecting  so  much  from 
what  William  had  seen ;  but  when  we  went  there,  I  did 
not  desire  to  stay  longer  than  till  the  hour  which  we  had 
prescribed  to  ourselves  ;  for  it  was  a  rule  not  to  be  broken  in 
upon,  that  the  person  who  conducted  us  to  the  Falls  was  to 
remain  by  our  side  till  we  chose  to  depart.  We  left  our  inn 
immediately  after  breakfast.  The  lanes  were  full  of  people 
going  to  church ;  many  of  the  middle-aged  women  wore  long 
scarlet  cardinals,  and  were  without  hats :  they  brought  to 
my  mind  the  women  of  Goslar  as  they  used  to  go  to  church 
in  their  silver  or  gold  caps,  with  their  long  cloaks,  black  or 
coloured. 

The  banks  of  the  Clyde  from  Lanerk  to  the  Falls  rise 
immediately  from  the  river ;  they  are  lofty  and  steep,  and 
covered  with  wood.  The  road  to  the  Falls  is  along  the  top 
of  one  of  the  banks,  and  to  the  left  you  have  a  prospect  of 
the  open  country,  corn  fields  and  scattered  houses.  To  the 
right,  over  the  river,  the  country  spreads  out,  as  it  were, 
into  a  plain  covered  over  with  hills,  no  one  hill  much 
higher  than  another,  but  hills  all  over ;  there  were  endless 
pastures  overgrown  with  broom,  and  scattered  trees,  with- 
out hedges  or  fences  of  any  kind,  and  no  distinct  footpaths. 
It  was  delightful  to  see  the  lasses  in  gay  dresses  running 


36  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

like  cattlfe  among  the  broom,  making  their  way  straight 
forward  towards  the  river,  here  and  there  as  it  might 
chance.  They  waded  across  the  stream,  and,  when  they 
had  reached  the  top  of  the  opposite  bank,  sat  down  by  the 
road-side,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  town,  to  put  on  their 
shoes  and  cotton  stockings,  which  they  brought  tied  up  in 
pocket-handkerchiefs.  The  porter's  lodge  is  about  a  mile 
from  Lanerk,  and  the  lady's  house — for  the  whole  belongs 
to  a  lady,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten* — is  upon  a  hill  at 
a  little  distance.  We  walked,  after  we  had  entered  the 
private  grounds,  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  along  a  gravel 
carriage-road,  then  came  to  a  little  side  gate,  which  opened 
upon  a  narrow  gravel  path  under  trees,  and  in  a  minute 
and  a  half,  or  less,  were  directly  opposite  to  the  great  water- 
fall. I  was  much  affected  by  the  first  view  of  it.  The 
majesty  and  strength  of  the  water,  for  I  had  never  before 
seen  so  large  a  cataract,  struck  me  with  astonishment, 
which  died  away,  giving  place  to  more  delightful  feelings ; 
though  there  were  some  buildings  that  I  could  have  wished 
had  not  been  there,  though  at  first  unnoticed.  The  chief 
of  them  was  a  neat,  white,  lady-like  house,  ^  very  near  to 
the  waterfall.  William  and  Coleridge  however  were  in  a 
better  and  perhaps  wiser  humour,  and  did  not  dislike  the 
house;  indeed,  it  was  a  very  nice-looking  place,  with  a 
moderate-sized  garden,  leaving  the  green  fields  free  and 
open.  This  house  is  on  the  side  of  the  river  opposite 
to  the  grand  house  and  the  pleasure-grounds.  The  water- 
fall Cora  Linnt  is  composed  of  two  falls,  with  a  sloping 
space,  which  appears  to  be  about  twenty  yards  between, 
but  is  much  more.  The  basin  which  receives  the  fall  is 
enclosed  by  noble  rocks,  with  trees,  chiefly  hazels,  birch, 
*  Lady  Mary  Ross.  f  Corehouse.  J  See  Appendix  B. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  37 

and  ash  growing  out  of  their  sides  whenever  there  is  any 
hold  for  them ;  and  a  magnificent  resting-place  it  is  for 
such  a  river ;  I  think  more  grand  than  the  Falls  themselves. 

After  having  stayed  some  time,  we  returned  by  the  same 
footpath  into  the  main  carriage-road,  and  soon  came  upon 
what  William  calls  an  ell-wide  gravel  walk,  from  which  we 
had  different  views  of  the  Linn.  We  sat  upon  a  bench, 
placed  for  the  sake  of  one  of  these  views,  whence  we  looked 
down  upon  the  waterfall,  and  over  the  open  country,  and 
saw  a  ruined  tower,  called  Wallace's  Tower,  which  stands  at 
a  very  little  distance  from  the  fall,  and  is  an  interesting 
object.  A  lady  and  gentleman,  more  expeditious  tourists 
than  ourselves,  came  to  the  spot ;  they  left  us  at  the  seat, 
and  we  found  them  again  at  another  station  above  the  Falls. 
Coleridge,  who  is  always  good-natured  enough  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  anybody  whom  he  meets  in  his  way, 
began  to  talk  with  the  gentleman,  who  observed  that  it 
was  a  majestic  waterfall.  Coleridge  was  delighted  with  the 
accuracy  of  the  epithet,  particularly  as  he  had  been 
settling  in  his  own  mind  the  precise  meaning  of  the  words 
grand,  majestic,  sublime,  etc.,  and  had  discussed  the  subject 
with  William  at  some  length  the  day  before.  '  Yes,  sir,' 
says  Coleridge,  '  it  is  a  majestic  waterfall.'  '  Sublime  and 
beautiful,'  replied  his  friend.  Poor  Coleridge  could  make 
no  answer,  and,  not  very  desirous  to  continue  the  conver- 
sation, came  to  us  and  related  the  story,  laughing  heartily. 

The  distance  from  one  Linn  to  the  other  may  be  half  a 
mile  or  more,  along  the  same  ell-wide  walk.  We  came  to 
a  pleasure-house,  of  which  the  little  girl  had  the  key ;  she 
said  it  was  called  the  Fog-house,  because  it  was  lined  with 
'  fog,'  namely  moss.  On  the  outside  it  resembled  some  of 
the  huts  in  the  prints  belonging  to  Captain  Cook's  Voyages 


38  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

and  within  was  like  a  hay-stack  scooped  out.  It  was  cir- 
cular, with  a  dome-like  roof,  a  seat  all  round  fixed  to  the 
wall,  and  a  table  in  the  middle, — seat,  wall,  roof,  and  table 
all  covered  with  moss  in  the  neatest  manner  possible.  It 
was  as  snug  as  a  bird's  nest ;  I  wish  we  had  such  a  one  at 
the  top  of  our  orchard,  only  a  great  deal  smaller.  We 
afterwards  found  that  huts  of  the  same  kind  were  common 
in  the  pleasure-grounds  of  Scotland ;  but  we  never  saw  any 
that  were  so  beautifully  wrought  as  this.  It  had,  however, 
little  else  to  recommend  it,  the  situation  being  chosen 
without  judgment ;  there  was  no  prospect  from  it,  nor  was 
it  a  place  of  seclusion  and  retirement,  for  it  stood  close  to 
the  ell-wide  gravel  walk.  We  wished  we  could  have 
shoved  it  about  a  hundred  yards  further  on,  when  we  arrived 
at  a  bench  which  was  also  close  to  the  walk,  for  just  below 
the  bench,  the  walk  elbowing  out  into  a  circle,  there  was  a 
beautiful  spring  of  clear  water,  which  we  could  see  rise  up 
continually,  at  the  bottom  of  a  round  stone  basin  full  to  the 
brim,  the  water  gushing  out  at  a  little  outlet  and  passing 
away  under  the  walk.  A  reason  was  wanted  for  placing 
the  hut  where  it  is ;  what  a  good  one  would  this  little 
spring  have  furnished  for  bringing  it  hither !  Along  the 
whole  of  the  path  were  openings  at  intervals  for  views  of 
the  river,  but,  as  almost  always  happens  in  gentlemen's 
grounds,  they  were  injudiciously  managed ;  you  were  pre- 
pared for  a  dead  stand — by  a  parapet,  a  painted  seat,  or  some 
other  device. 

We  stayed  some  time  at  the  Boniton  Fall,  which  has 
one  great  advantage  over  the  other  falls,  that  it  is  at  the 
termination  of  the  pleasure-grounds,  and  we  see  no  traces 
of  the  boundary-line ;  yet,  except  under  some  accidental 
circumstances,  such  as  a  sunset  like  that  of  the  preceding 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  39 

evening,  it  is  greatly  inferior  to  the  Cora  Linn.  We 
returned  to  the  inn  to  dinner.  The  landlord  set  the  first 
dish  upon  the  table,  as  is  common  in  England,  and  we  were 
well  waited  upon.  This  first  dish  was  true  Scottish — a 
boiled  sheep's  head,  with  the  hair  singed  off;  Coleridge 
and  I  ate  heartily  of  it ;  we  had  barley  broth,  in  which  the 
sheep's  head  had  been  boiled.  A  party  of  tourists  whom 
we  had  met  in  the  pleasure-grounds  drove  from  the  door 
while  we  were  waiting  for  dinner ;  I  guess  they  were  fresh 
from  England,  for  they  had  stuffed  the  pockets  of  their 
carriage  with  bundles  of  heather,  roots  and  all,  just  as  if 
Scotland  grew  no  heather  but  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde. 
They  passed  away  with  their  treasure  towards  Loch  Lomond. 
A  party  of  boys,  dressed  all  alike  in  blue,  very  neat,  were 
standing  at  the  chaise-door;  we  conjectured  they  were 
charity  scholars;  but  found  on  inquiry  that  they  were 
apprentices  to  the  cotton  factory ;  we  were  told  that  they 
were  well  instructed  in  reading  and  writing.  We  had  seen 
in  the  morning  a  flock  of  girls  dressed  in  grey  coming  out 
of  the  factory,  probably  apprentices  also. 

After  dinner  set  off  towards  Hamilton,  but  on  foot,  for 
we  had  to  turn  aside  to  the  Cartland  Rocks,  and  our  car 
was  to  meet  us  on  the  road.  A  guide  attended  us,  who 
might  almost  in  size,  and  certainly  in  activity,  have  been 
compared  with  William's  companion  who  hid  himself  in 
the  niche  of  the  cavern.  His  method  of  walking  and  very 
quick  step  soon  excited  our  attention.  I  could  hardly 
keep  up  with  him ;  he  paddled  by  our  side,  just  reaching  to 
my  shoulder,  like  a  little  dog,  with  his  long  snout  pushed 
before  him — for  he  had  an  enormous  nose,  and  walked  with 
his  head  foremost.  I  said  to  him,  '  How  quick  you  walk  !' 
he  replied,  '  That  was  not  quick  walking,'  and  when  I  asked 


40  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

him  what  he  called  so,  he  said  '  Five  miles  an  hour,'  and 
then  related  in  how  many  hours  he  had  lately  walked  from 
Lanerk  to  Edinburgh,  done  some  errands,  and  returned  to 
Lanerk — I  have  forgotten  the  particulars,  but  it  was  a 
very  short  time — and  added  that  he  had  an  old  father  who 
could  walk  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour,  for  twenty- 
four  miles,  any  day,  and  had  never  had  an  hour's  sickness 
in  his  life.  '  Then,'  said  I,  '  he  has  not  drunk  much  strong 
liquor?'  'Yes,  enough  to  drown  him.'  From  his  eager 
manner  of  uttering  this,  I  inferred  that  he  himself  was  a 
drinker;  and  the  man  who  met  us  with  the  car  told 
William  that  he  gained  a  great  deal  of  money  as  an  errand- 
goer,  but  spent  it  all  in  tippling.  He  had  been  a  shoe- 
maker, but  could  not  bear  the  confinement  on  account  of  a 
weakness  in  his  chest. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Lanerk  is  exceedingly  pleasant ; 
we  came  to  a  sort  of  district  of  glens  or  little  valleys 
that  cleave  the  hills,  leaving  a  cheerful,  open  country 
above  them,  with  no  superior  hills,  but  an  undulating 
surface.  Our  guide  pointed  to  the  situation  of  the 
Cartland  Crags.  We  were  to  cross  a  narrow  valley,  and 
walk  down  on  the  other  side,  and  then  we  should  be  at 
the  spot ;  but  the  little  fellow  made  a  sharp  turn  down  a 
footpath  to  the  left,  saying, '  We  must  have  some  conversa- 
tion here.'  He  paddled  on  with  his  small  pawing  feet  till  we 
came  right  opposite  to  a  gentleman's  house  on  the  other 
side  of  the  valley,  when  he  halted,  repeating  some  words, 
I  have  forgotten  what,  which  were  taken  up  by  the  most 
distinct  echo  I  ever  heard — this  is  saying  little  :  it  was  the 
most  distinct  echo  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  It 
shouted  the  names  of  our  fireside  friends  in  the  very  tone 
in  which  William  and  Coleridge  spoke ;  but  it  seemed  to 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  41 

make  a  joke  of  me,  and  I  could  not  help  laughing  at  my 
own  voice,  it  was  so  shrill  and  pert,  exactly  as  if  some  one 
had  been  mimicking  it  very  successfully,  with  an  intention 
of  making  me  ridiculous.  I  wished  Joanna6  had  been  there 
to  laugh,  for  the  echo  is  an  excellent  laugher,  and  would 
have  almost  made  her  believe  that  it  was  a  true  story  which 
William  has  told  of  her  and  the  mountains.  We  turned 
back,  crossed  the  valley,  went  through  the  orchard  and 
plantations  belonging  to  the  gentleman's  house.  By  the 
bye,  we  observed  to  our  guide  that  the  echo  must  bring 
many  troublesome  visitors  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  owner 
of  that  house, '  Oh  no,'  said  he,  '  he  glories  in  much  com- 
pany.' He  was  a  native  of  that  neighbourhood,  had  made 
a  moderate  fortune  abroad,  purchased  an  estate,  built  the 
house,  and  raised  the  plantations ;  and  further,  had  made 
a  convenient  walk  through  his  woods  to  the  Cartland  Crags. 
The  house  was  modest  and  neat,  and  though  not  adorned 
in  the  best  taste,  and  though  the  plantations  were  of  fir,  we 
looked  at  it  with  great  pleasure,  there  was  such  true 
liberality  and  kind-heartedness  in  leaving  his  orchard  path 
open,  and  his  walks  unobstructed  by  gates.  I  hope  this 
goodness  is  not  often  abused  by  plunderers  of  the  apple- 
trees,  which  were  hung  with  tempting  apples  close  to  the 
path. 

At  the  termination  of  the  little  valley,  we  descended 
through  a  wood  along  a  very  steep  path  to  a  muddy  stream 
running  over  limestone  rocks ;  turned  up  to  the  left  along 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  soon  we  were  closed  in  by  rocks 
on  each  side.  They  were  very  lofty — of  limestone,  trees 
starting  out  of  them,  high  and  low,  overhanging  the 
stream  or  shooting  up  towards  the  sky.  No  place  of  the 
kind  could  be  more  beautiful  if  the  stream  had  been  clear, 


42  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

but  it  was  of  a  muddy  yellow  colour ;  had  it  been  a  large 
river,  one  might  have  got  the  better  of  the  unpleasantness 
of  the  muddy  water  in  the  grandeur  of  its  roaring,  the 
boiling  up  of  the  foam  over  the  rocks,  or  the  obscurity  of 
its  pools. 

"We  had  been  told  that  the  Cartland  Crags  were  better 
worth  going  to  see  than  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde.  I  did  not 
think  so;  but  I  have  seen  rocky  dells  resembling  this 
before,  with  clear  water  instead  of  that  muddy  stream,  and 
never  saw  anything  like  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde.  It  would 
be  a  delicious  spot  to  have  near  one's  house ;  one  would 
linger  out  many  a  day  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  caverns, 
and  the  stream  would  soothe  one  by  its  murmuring ;  still, 
being  an  old  friend,  one  would  not  love  it  the  less  for  its 
homely  face.  Even  we,  as  we  passed  along,  could  not  help 
stopping  for  a  long  while  to  admire  the  beauty  of  the  lazy 
foam,  for  ever  in  motion,  and  never  moved  away,  in  a  still 
place  of  the  water,  covering  the  whole  surface  of  it  with  streaks 
and  lines  and  ever- varying  circles.  Wild  marjoram  grew 
upon  the  rocks  in  great  perfection  and  beauty ;  our  guide 
gave  me  a  bunch,  and  said  he  should  come  hither  to  collect 
a  store  for  tea  for  the  winter,  and  that  it  was  '  varra  hale- 
some  : '  he  drank  none  else.  We  walked  perhaps  half  a 
mile  along  the  bed  of  the  river ;  but  it  might  seem  to  be 
much  further  than  it  was,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  the 
path,  and  the  sharp  and  many  turnings  of  the  glen.  Passed 
two  of  Wallace's  Caves.  There  is  scarce  a  noted  glen  in 
Scotland  that  has  not  a  cave  for  Wallace  or  some  other 
hero.  Before  we  left  the  river  the  rocks  became  less  lofty, 
turned  into  a  wood  through  which  was  a  convenient  path 
upwards,  met  the  owner  of  the  house  and  the  echo-ground, 
and  thanked  him  for  the  pleasure  which  he  had  provided 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  43 

for  us  and  other  travellers  by  making  such  pretty  path- 
ways. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  we-  reached  the  place  where  the 
car  was  waiting.  We  were  anxious  to  be  off,  as  we  had 
fifteen  miles  to  go ;  but  just  as  we  were  seating  ourselves 
we  found  that  the  cushions  were  missing.  William  was 
forced  to  go  back  to  the  town,  a  mile  at  least,  and  Cole- 
ridge and  I  waited  with  the  car.  It  rained,  and  we  had 
some  fear  that  the  evening  would  be  wet,  but  the  rain  soon 
ceased,  though  the  sky  continued  gloomy — an  unfortunate 
circumstance,  for  we  had  to  travel  through  a  beautiful 
country,  and  of  that  sort  which  is  most  set  off  by  sunshine 
and  pleasant  weather. 

Travelled  through  the  Vale  or  Trough  of  the  Clyde,  as  it 
is  called,  for  ten  or  eleven  miles,  having  the  river  on  our 
right.  We  had  fine  views  both  up  and  down  the  river  for 
the  first  three  or  four  miles,  our  road  being  not  close  to  it, 
but  above  its  banks,  along  the  open  country,  which  was 
here  occasionally  intersected  by  hedgerows. 

Left  our  car  in  the  road,  and  turned  down  a  field  to  the 
Fall  of  Stonebyres,  another  of  the  falls  of  the  Clyde, 
which  I  had  not  heard  spoken  of;  therefore  it  gave  me 
the  more  pleasure.  We  saw  it  from  the  top  of  the  bank 
of  the  river  at  a  little  distance.  It  has  not  the  imposing 
majesty  of  Cora  Linn ;  but  it  has  the  advantage  of  being 
left  to  itself,  a  grand  solitude  in  the  heart  of  a  populous 
country.  We  had  a  prospect  above  and  below  it,  of  culti- 
vated grounds,  with  hay-stacks,  houses,  hills ;  but  the  river's 
banks  were  lonesome,  steep,  and  woody,  with  rocks  near 
the  fall. 

A  little  further  on,  came  more  into  company  with  the 
river ;  sometimes  we  were  close  to  it,  sometimes  above  it, 


44  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

but  always  at  no  great  distance ;  and  now  the  vale  became 
more  interesting  and  amusing.  It  is  very  populous,  with 
villages,  hamlets,  single  cottages,  or  farm-houses  embosomed 
in  orchards,  and  scattered  over  with  gentlemen's  houses, 
some  of  them  very  ugly,  tall  and  obtrusive,  others  neat  and 
comfortable.  We  seemed  now  to  have  got  into  a  country 
where  poverty  and  riches  were  shaking  hands  together; 
pears  and  apples,  of  which  the  crop  was  abundant,  hung 
over  the  road,  often  growing  in  orchards  unfenced;  or 
there  might  be  bunches  of  broom  along  the  road-side  in  an 
interrupted  line,  that  looked  like  a  hedge  till  we  came  to 
it  and  saw  the  gaps.  Bordering  on  these  fruitful  orchards 
perhaps  would  be  a  patch,  its  chief  produce  being  gorse  or 
broom.  There  was  nothing  like  a  moor  or  common  any- 
where ;  but  small  plots  of  uncultivated  ground  were  left 
high  and  low,  among  the  potatoes,  corn,  cabbages,  which 
grew  intermingled,  now  among  trees,  now  bare.  The 
Trough  of  the  Clyde  is,  indeed,  a  singular  and  very  inter- 
esting region ;  it  is  somewhat  like  the  upper  part  of  the 
vale  of  Nith,  but  above  the  Nith  is  much  less  cultivated 
ground — without  hedgerows  or  orchards,  or  anything  that 
looks  like  a  rich  country.  We  met  crowds  of  people 
coming  from  the  kirk ;  the  lasses  were  gaily  dressed,  often 
in  white  gowns,  coloured  satin  bonnets,  and  coloured  silk 
handkerchiefs,  and  generally  with  their  shoes  and  stockings 
in  a  bundle  hung  on  their  arm.  Before  we  left  the  river  the 
vale  became  much  less  interesting,  resembling  a  poor  English 
country,  the  fields  being  large,  and  unluxu  riant  hedges. 

It  had  been  dark  long  before  we  reached  Hamilton,  and 
William  had  some  difficulty  in  driving  the  tired  horse 
through  the  town.  At  the  inn  they  hesitated  about  being 
able  to  give  us  beds,  the  house  being  brim-full — lights  at 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  45 

every  window.  We  were  rather  alarmed  for  our  accom- 
modations during  the  rest  of  the  tour,  supposing  the  house 
to  be  filled  with  tourists ;  but  they  were  in  general  only 
regular  travellers  ;  for  out  of  the  main  road  from  town  to 
town  we  saw  scarcely  a  carriage,  and  the  inns  were 
empty.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  treatment 
we  met  with  at  this  inn,  except  the  lazy  impertinence  of 
the  waiter.  It  was  a  townish  place,  with  a  great  larder  set 
out ;  the  house  throughout  dirty. 

Monday,  August  22d. — Immediately  after  breakfast  walked 
to  the  Duke  of  Hamilton's  house  to  view  the  picture-gallery, 
chiefly  the  famous  picture  of  Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den,  by 
Eubens.  It  is  a  large  building,  without  grandeur,  a  heavy, 
lumpish  mass,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Hopetoun  H,*  only 
five  times  the  size,  and  with  longer  legs,  which  makes  it 
gloomy.  We  entered  the  gate,  passed  the  porter's  lodge, 
where  we  saw  nobody,  and  stopped  at  the  front  door,  as 
William  had  done  two  years  before  with  Sir  William  Rush's 
family.  We  were  met  by  a  little  mean-looking  man,  shab- 
bily dressed,  out  of  livery,  who,  we  found,  was  the  porter. 
After  scanning  us  over,  he  told  us  that  we  ought  not  to 
have  come  to  that  door.  We  said  we  were  sorry  for  the 
mistake,  but  as  one  of  our  party  had  been  there  two  years 
before,  and  was  admitted  by  the  same  entrance,  we  had 
supposed  it  was  the  regular  way.  After  many  hesitations, 
and  having  kept  us  five  minutes  waiting  in  the  large  hall, 
while  he  went  to  consult  with  the  housekeeper,  he  informed 
us  that  we  could  not  be  admitted  at  that  time,  the  house- 
keeper being  unwell ;  but  that  we  might  return  in  an  hour  : 

*  The  house  belonging  to  the  Earls  of  Hopetoun  at  Leadhills,  not  that 
which  bears  this  name  about  twelve  miles  from  Edinburgh.— Ed. 


46  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

he  then  conducted  us  through  long  gloomy  passages  to  an 
obscure  door  at  the  corner  of  the  house.  We  asked  if  we 
might  be  permitted  to  walk  in  the  park  in  the  meantime ; 
and  he  told  us  that  this  would  not  be  agreeable  to  the  Duke's 
family.  We  returned  to  the  inn  discontented  enough,  but 
resolved  not  to  waste  an  hour,  if  there  were  anything  else 
in  the  neighbourhood  worth  seeing.  The  waiter  told  us 
there  was  a  curious  place  called  Baroncleugh,  with  gardens 
cut  out  in  rocks,  and  we  determined  to  go  thither.  We  had 
'to  walk  through  the  town,  which  may  be  about  as  large  as 
Penrith,  and  perhaps  a  mile  further,  along  a  dusty  turnpike 
road.  The  morning  was  hot,  sunny,  and  windy,  and  we 
were  half  tired  before  we  reached  the  place ;  but  were  amply 
repaid  for  our  trouble. 

The  general  face  of  the  country  near  Hamilton  is  much 
in  the  ordinary  English  style ;  not  very  hilly,  with  hedge- 
rows, corn  fields,  and  stone  houses.  The  Clyde  is  here  an 
open  river  with  low  banks,  and  the  country  spreads  out  so 
wide  that  there  is  no  appearance  of  a  regular  vale.  Baron- 
cleugh is  in  a  beautiful  deep  glen  through  which  runs  the 
river  Avon,  a  stream  that  falls  into  the  Clyde.  The  house 
stands  very  sweetly  in  complete  retirement ;  it  has  its  gar- 
dens and  terraces  one  above  another,  with  flights  of  steps 
between,  box-trees  and  yew-trees  cut  in  fantastic  shapes, 
flower-borders  and  summer-houses ;  and,  still  below,  apples 
and  pears  were  hanging  in  abundance  on  the  branches  of 
large  old  trees,  which  grew  intermingled  with  the  natural 
wood,  elms,  beeches,  etc.,  even  to  the  water's  edge.  The 
whole  place  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  taste  of  our  an- 
cestors, and  the  yews  and  hollies  are  shaven  as  nicely,  and 
the  gravel  walks  and  flower-borders  kept  in  as  exact  order, 
as  if  the  spirit  of  the  first  architect  of  the  terraces  still  pre- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  47 

sided  over  them.  The  opposite  bank  of  the  river  is  left  in 
its  natural  wildness,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  higher  up 
but  the  deep  dell,  its  steep  banks  being  covered  with  fine 
trees,  a  beautiful  relief  or  contrast  to  the  garden,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  elaborate  old  things  ever  seen,  a  little  hang- 
ing garden  of  Babylon. 

I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  the  owner  of  this  sweet  place 
did  not  live  there  always.  He  had  built  a  small  thatched 
house  to  eke  out  the  old  one  :  it  was  a  neat  dwelling,  with 
no  false  ornaments.  We  were  exceedingly  sorry  to  quit 
this  spot,  which  is  left  to  nature  and  past  times,  and  should 
have  liked  to  have  pursued  the  glen  further  up  ;  we  were 
told  that  there  was  a  ruined  castle ;  and  the  walk  itself 
must  be  very  delightful ;  but  we  wished  to  reach  Glasgow  in 
good  time,  and  had  to  go  again  to  Hamilton  House.  Ee- 
turned  to  the  town  by  a  much  shorter  road,  and  were  very 
angry  with  the  waiter  for  not  having  directed  us  to  it ;  but 
he  was  too  great  a  man  to  speak  three  words  more  than  he 
could  help. 

We  stopped  at  the  proper  door  of  the  Duke's  house,  and 
seated  ourselves  humbly  upon  a  bench,  waiting  the  pleasure 
of  the  porter,  who,  after  a  little  time,  informed  us  that  we 
could  not  be  admitted,  giving  no  reason  whatever.  When 
we  got  to  the  inn,  we  could  just  gather  from  the  waiter  that 
it  was  not  usual  to  refuse  admittance  to  strangers ;  but  that 
was  all :  he  could  not,  or  would  not,  help  us,  so  we  were 
obliged  to  give  it  up,  which  mortified  us,  for  I  had  wished 
much  to  see  the  picture.  William  vowed  that  he  would 
write  that  very  night  to  Lord  Archibald  Hamilton,  stating 
the  whole  matter,  which  he  did  from  Glasgow. 

I  ought  to  have  mentioned  the  park,  though,  as  we  were 
not  allowed  to  walk  there,  we  saw  but  little  of  it.  It  looked 


48  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

pleasant,  as  all  parks  with  fine  trees  must  be,  but,  as  it 
seemed  to  be  only  a  large,  nearly  level,  plain,  it  could  not 
be  a  particularly  beautiful  park,  though  it  borders  upon  the 
Clyde,  and  the  Avon  runs,  I  believe,  through  it,  after  leav- 
ing the  solitude  of  the  glen  of  Baroncleugh. 

Quitted  Hamilton  at  about  eleven  o'clock.  There  is 
nothing  interesting  between  Hamilton  and  Glasgow  till  we 
came  to  Bothwell  Castle,  a  few  miles  from  Hamilton.  The 
country  is  cultivated,  but  not  rich,  the  fields  large,  a  perfect 
contrast  to  the  huddling  together  of  hills  and  trees,  corn 
and  pasture  grounds,  hay-stacks,  cottages,  orchards,  broom 
and  gorse,  but  chiefly  broom,  that  had  amused  us  so  much 
the  evening  before  in  passing  through  the  Trough  of  the 
Clyde.  A  native  of  Scotland  would  not  probably  be  satis- 
fied with  the  account  I  have  given  of  the  Trough  of  the 
Clyde,  for  it  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  scenes  in  Scot- 
laud.  We  certainly  received  less  pleasure  from  it  than 
we  had  expected ;  but  it  was  plain  that  this  was  chiefly 
owing  to  the  unfavourable  circumstances  under  which  we 
saw  it — a  gloomy  sky  and  a  cold  blighting  wind.  It  is  a 
very  beautiful  district,  yet  there,  as  in  all  the  other  scenes 
of  Scotland  celebrated  for  their  fertility,  we  found  some- 
thing which  gave  us  a  notion  of  barrenness,  of  what  was  not 
altogether  genial.  The  new  fir  and  larch  plantations,  here 
as  in  almost  every  other  part  of  Scotland,  contributed  not 
a  little  to  this  effect. 

Crossed  the  Clyde  not  far  from  Hamilton,  and  had  the 
river  for  some  miles  at  a  distance  from  us,  on  our  left ;  but 
after  having  gone,  it  might  be,  three  miles,  we  came  to  a 
porter's  lodge  on  the  left  side  of  the  road,  where  we  were 
to  turn  to  Bothwell  Castle,  which  is  in  Lord  Douglas's 
grounds.  The  woman  who  keeps  the  gate  brought  us  a 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  49 

book,  in  which  we  wrote  down  our  names.  Went  about 
half  a  mile  before  we  came  to  the  pleasure-grounds.  Came 
to  a  large  range  of  stables,  where  we  were  to  leave  the  car ; 
but  there  was  no  one  to  unyoke  the  horse,  so  William  was 
obliged  to  do  it  himself,  a  task  which  he  performed  very 
awkwardly,  being  then  new  to  it.  We  saw  the  ruined 
castle  embosomed  in  trees,  passed  the  house,  and  soon 
found  ourselves  on  the  edge  of  a  steep  brow  immediately 
above  and  overlooking  the  course  of  the  river  Clyde 
through  a  deep  hollow  between  woods  and  green  steeps. 
We  had  approached  at  right  angles  from  the  main  road  to 
the  place  over  a  flat,  and  had  seen  nothing  before  us  but  a 
nearly  level  country  terminated  by  distant  slopes,  the  Clyde 
hiding  himself  in  his  deep  bed.  It  was  exceedingly  delight- 
ful to  come  thus  unexpectedly  upon  such  a  beautiful  region. 
The  Castle  stands  nobly,  overlooking  the  Clyde.  When 
we  came  up  to  it  I  was  hurt  to  see  that  flower-borders 
had  taken  place  of  the  natural  overgrowings  of  the  ruin, 
the  scattered  stones  and  wild  plants.  It  is  a  large  and 
grand  pile,  of  red  freestone,  harmonizing  perfectly  with 
the  rocks  of  the  river,  from  which,  no  doubt,  it  has  been 
hewn.  When  I  was  a  little  accustomed  to  the  unnatural- 
ness  of  a  modern  garden,  I  could  not  help  admiring  the 
excessive  beauty  and  luxuriance  of  some  of  the  plants,  par- 
ticularly the  purple-flowered  clematis,  and  a  broad-leaved 
creeping  plant  without  flowers,  which  scrambled  up  the 
castle  wall  along  with  the  ivy,  and  spread  its  vine-like 
branches  so  lavishly  that  it  seemed  to  be  in  its  natural 
situation,  and  one  could  not  help  thinking  that,  though 
not  self-planted  among  the  ruins  of  this  country,  it  must 
somewhere  have  its  natural  abode  in  such  places.  If  Both- 
well  Castle  had  not  been  close  to  the  Douglas  mansion  we 

D 


50  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

should  have  been  disgusted  with  the  possessor's  miserable 
conception  of  '  adorning'  such  a  venerable  ruin ;  but  it  is 
so  very  near  to  the  house  that  of  necessity  the  pleasure- 
grounds  must  have  extended  beyond  it,  and  perhaps  the 
neatness  of  a  shaven  lawn  and  the  complete  desolation 
natural  to  a  ruin  might  have  made  an  unpleasing  contrast ; 
and  besides,  being  within  the  precincts  of  the  pleasure- 
grounds,  and  so  very  near  to  the  modern  mansion  of  a  noble 
family,  it  has  forfeited  in  some  degree  its  independent 
majesty,  and  becomes  a  tributary  to  the  mansion ;  its 
solitude  being  interrupted,  it  has  no  longer  the  same  com- 
mand over  the  mind  in  sending  it  back  into  past  times,  or 
excluding  the  ordinary  feelings  which  we  bear  about  us  in 
daily  life.  We  had  then  only  to  regret  that  the  castle  and 
house  were  so  near  to  each  other ;  and  it  was  impossible 
libt  to  regret  it ;  for  the  ruin  presides  in  state  over  the 
river,  far  from  city  or  town,  as  if  it  might  have  had  a 
peculiar  privilege  to  preserve  its  memorials  of  past  ages 
and  maintain  its  own  character  and  independence  for 
centuries  to  come. 

We  sat  upon  a  bench  under  the  high  trees,  and  had 
beautiful  views  of  the  different  reaches  of  the  river  above 
and  below.  On  the  opposite  bank,  which  is  finely  wooded 
with  elms  and  other  trees,  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
priory,  built  upon  a  rock  :  and  rock  and  ruin  are  so  blended 
together  that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the  one  from  the 
other.  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  little  rem- 
nants of  this  holy  place ;  elm  trees — for  we  were  near  enough 
to  distinguish  them  by  their  branches — grow  out  of  the  walls, 
and  overshadow  a  small  but  very  elegant  window.  It  can 
scarcely  be  conceived  what  a  grace  the  castle  and  priory 
impart  to  each  other ;  and  the  river  Clyde  flows  on  smooth 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  51 

and  unruffled  below,  seeming  to  my  thoughts  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  sober  and  stately  images  of  former  times, 
than  if  it  had  roared  over  a  rocky  channel,  forcing  its  sound 
upon  the  ear.  It  blended  gently  with  the  warbling  of  the 
smaller  birds  and  chattering  of  the  larger  ones  that  had 
made  their  nests  in  the  ruins.  In  this  fortress  the  chief 
of  the  English  nobility  were  confined  after  the  battle  of 
Bannockburn.  If  a  man  is  to  be  a  prisoner,  he  scarcely 
could  have  a  more  pleasant  place  to  solace  his  captivity; 
but  I  thought  that  for  close  confinement  I  should  prefer 
the  banks  of  a  lake  or  the  sea-side.  The  greatest  charm 
of  a  brook  or  river  is  in  the  liberty  to  pursue  it  through 
its  windings ;  you  can  then  take  it  in  whatever  mood  you 
like  ;  silent  or  noisy,  sportive  or  quiet.  The  beauties  of  a 
brook  or  river  must  be  sought,  and  the  pleasure  is  in  going 
in  search  of  them ;  those  of  a  lake  or  of  the  sea  come  to 
you  of  themselves.  These  rude  warriors  cared  little  per- 
haps about  either;  and  yet  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
writings  of  Chaucer  and  from  the  old  romances,  more  inter- 
esting passions  were  connected  with  natural  objects  in  the 
days  of  chivalry  than  now,  though  going  in  search  of  scenery, 
as  it  is  called,  had  not  then  been  thought  of.  I  had  heard 
nothing  of  Bothwell  Castle,  at  least  nothing  that  I  remem- 
bered, therefore,  perhaps,  my  pleasure  was  greater,  compared 
with  what  I  received  elsewhere,  than  others  might  feel. 

At  our  return  to  the  stables  we  found  an  inferior  groom, 
who  helped  William  to  yoke  the  horse,  and  was  very  civil. 
We  grew  hungry  before  we  had  travelled  many  miles,  and 
seeing  a  large  public-house — it  was  in  a  walled  court  some 
yards  from  the  road — Coleridge  got  off  the  car  to  inquire  if 
we  could  dine  there,  and  was  told  we  could  have  nothing 
but  eggs.  It  was  a  miserable  place,  very  like  a  French 


52  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

house;  indeed  we  observed,  in  almost  every  part  of  Scot- 
land, except  Edinburgh,  that  we  were  reminded  ten  times 
of  France  and  Germany  for  once  of  England. 

Saw  nothing  remarkable  after  leaving  Bothwell,  except 
the  first  view  of  Glasgow,  at  some  miles  distance,  terminated 
by  the  mountains  of  Loch  Lomond.  The  suburbs  of 
Glasgow  extend  very  far,  houses  on  each  side  of  the  high- 
way,— all  ugly,  and  the  inhabitants  dirty.  The  roads  are 
very  wide ;  and  everything  seems  to  tell  of  the  neighbour- 
hood of  a  large  town.  We  were  annoyed  by  carts  and  dirt, 
and  the  road  was  full  of  people,  who  all  noticed  our  car  in  one 
way  or  other ;  the  children  often  sent  a  hooting  after  us. 

Wearied  completely,  we  at  last  reached  the  town,  and 
were  glad  to  walk,  leading  the  car  to  the  first  decent  inn, 
which  was  luckily  not  far  from  the  end  of  the  town. 
William,  who  gained  most  of  his  road-knowledge  from 
ostlers,  had  been  informed  of  this  house  by  the  ostler  at 
Hamilton ;  it  proved  quiet  and  tolerably  cheap,  a  new 
building — the  Saracen's  Head.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
glad  I  was  to  be  landed  in  a  little  quiet  back-parlour,  for 
my  head  was  beating  with  the  noise  of  carts  which  we  had 
left,  and  the  wearisomeness  of  the  disagreeable  objects  near 
the  highway ;  but  with  my  first  pleasant  sensations  also 
came  the  feeling  that  we  were  not  in  an  English  inn — partly 
from  its  half-unfurnished  appearance,  which  is  common  in 
Scotland,  for  in  general  the  deal  wainscots  and  doors  are 
unpainted,  and  partly  from  the  dirtiness  of  the  floors. 
Having  dined,  William  and  I  walked  to  the  post-office,  and 
after  much  seeking  found  out  a  quiet  timber-yard  wherein 
to  sit  down  and  read  our  letter.  We  then  walked  a  con- 
siderable time  in  the  streets,  which  are  perhaps  as  handsome 
as  streets  can  be,  which  derive  no  particular  effect  from 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  53 

their  situation  in  connexion  with  natural  advantages,  such 
as  rivers,  sea,  or  hills.  The  Trongate,  an  old  street, 
is  very  picturesque — high  houses,  with  an  intermixture  of 
gable  fronts  towards  the  street.  The  New  Town  is  built  of 
fine  stone,  in  the  best  style  of  the  very  best  London  streets 
at  the  west  end  of  the  town,  but,  not  being  of  brick,  they 
are  greatly  superior.  One  thing  must  strike  every  stranger 
in  his  first  walk  through  Glasgow — an  appearance  of  business 
and  bustle,  but  no  coaches  or  gentlemen's  carriages;  during 
all  the  time  we  walked  in  the  streets  I  only  saw  three 
carriages,  and  these  were  travelling  chaises.  I  also  could 
not  but  observe  a  want  of  cleanliness  in  the  appearance 
of  the  lower  orders  of  the  people,  and  a  dulness  in  the 
dress  and  outside  of  the  whole  mass,  as  they  moved 
along.  We  returned  to  the  inn  before  it  was  dark.  I  had 
a  bad  headache,  and  was  tired,  and  we  all  went  to  bed 
soon. 

Tuesday,  August  23d. — A  cold  morning.  Walked  to  the 
bleaching-ground,*  a  large  field  bordering  on  the  Clyde,  the 
banks  of  which  are  perfectly  flat,  and  the  general  face  of 
the  country  is  nearly  so  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Glasgow. 
This  field,  the  whole  summer  through,  is  covered  with 
women  of  all  ages,  children,  and  young  girls  spreading  out 
their  linen,  and  watching  it  while  it  bleaches.  The  scene 
must  be  very  cheerful  on  a  fine  day,  but  it  rained  when  we 
were  there,  and  though  there  was  linen  spread  out  in  all 
parts,  and  great  numbers  of  women  and  girls  were  at  work, 
yet  there  would  have  been  many  more  on  a  fine  day,  and  they 
would  have  appeared  happy,  instead  of  stupid  and  cheerless. 
In  the  middle  of  the  field  is  a  wash-house,  whither  the  in- 
*  Glasgow  Green. 


54  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

habitants  of  this  large  town,  rich  and  poor,  send  or  carry 
their  linen  to  be  washed.  There  are  two  very  large  rooms, 
with  each  a  cistern  in  the  middle  for  hot  water ;  and  all 
round  the  rooms  are  benches  for  the  women  to  set  their  tubs 
upon.  Both  the  rooms  were  crowded  with  washers ;  there 
might  be  a  hundred,  or  two,  or  even  three ;  for  it  is  not 
easy  to  form  an  accurate  notion  of  so  great  a  number; 
however,  the  rooms  were  large,  and  they  were  both  full. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  so  many  women,  arms,  head,  and  face 
all  in  motion,  all  busy  in  an  ordinary  household  employ- 
ment, in  which  we  are  accustomed  to  see,  at  the  most,  only 
three  or  four  women  employed  in  one  place.  The  women 
were  very  civil.  I  learnt  from  them  the  regulations  of  the 
house ;  but  I  have  forgotten  the  particulars.  The  substance 
of  them  is,  that  '  so  much '  is  to  be  paid  for  each  tub  of 
water, '  so  much '  for  a  tub,  and  the  privilege  of  washing 
for  a  day,  and,  '  so  much '  to  the  general  overlookers  of  the 
linen,  when  it  is  left  to  be  bleached.  An  old  man  and 
woman  have  this  office,  who  were  walking  about,  two 
melancholy  figures. 

The  shops  at  Glasgow  are  large,  and  like  London  shops, 
and  we  passed  by  the  largest  coffee-room  I  ever  saw.  You 
look  across  the  piazza  of  the  Exchange,  and  see  to  the  end 
of  the  coffee-room,  where  there  is  a  circular  window,  the 
width  of  the  room.  Perhaps  there  might  be  thirty  gentle- 
men sitting  on  the  circular  bench  of  the  window,  each 
reading  a  newspaper.  They  had  the  appearance  of  figures 
in  a  fantoccine,  or  men  seen  at  the  extremity  of  the  opera- 
house,  diminished  into  puppets. 

I  am  sorry  I  did  not  see  the  High  Church  :  both  William 
and  I  were  tired,  and  it  rained  very  hard  after  we  had  left 
the  bleaching-ground ;  besides,  I  am  less  eager  to  walk  in  a 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  55 

large  town  than  anywhere  else ;  so  we  put  it  off,  and  I  have 
since  repented  of  my  irresolution. 

Dined,  and  left  Glasgow  at  about  three  o'clock,  in  a 
heavy  rain.  We  were  obliged  to  ride  through  the  streets 
to  keep  our  feet  dry,  and,  in  spite  of  the  rain,  every  person 
as  we  went  along  stayed  his  steps  to  look  at  us ;  indeed, 
we  had  the  pleasure  of  spreading  smiles  from  one  end  of 
Glasgow  to  the  other — for  we  travelled  the  whole  length  of 
the  town.  A  set  of  schoolboys,  perhaps  there  might  be 
eight,  with  satchels  over  their  shoulders,  and,  except  one  or 
two,  without  shoes  and  stockings,  yet  very  well  dressed  in 
jackets  and  trousers,  like  gentlemen's  children,  followed  us 
in  great  delight,  admiring  the  car  and  longing  to  jump  up. 
At  last,  though  we  were  seated,  they  made  several  attempts 
to  get  on  behind ;  and  they  looked  so  pretty  and  wild,  and 
at  the  same  time  so  modest,  that  we  wished  to  give  them 
a  ride,  and  there  being  a  little  hill  near  the  end  of  the 
town,  we  got  off,  and  four  of  them  who  still  remained,  the 
rest  having  dropped  into  their  homes  by  the  way,  took  our 
places ;  and  indeed  I  would  have  walked  two  miles  willingly, 
to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  so  happy.  When 
they  were  to  ride  no  longer,  they  scampered  away,  laughing 
and  rejoicing.  New  houses  are  rising  up  in  great  numbers 
round  Glasgow,  citizen-like  houses,  and  new  plantations, 
chiefly  of  fir ;  the  fields  are  frequently  enclosed  by  hedge- 
rows, but  there  is  no  richness,  nor  any  particular  beauty  for 
some  miles. 

The  first  object  that  interested  us  was  a  gentleman's 
house  upon  a  green  plain  or  holm,  almost  close  to  the  Clyde, 
sheltered  by  tall  trees,  a  quiet  modest  mansion,  and,  though 
white- washed,  being  an  old  building,  and  no  other  house 
near  it,  or  in  connexion  with  it,  and  standing  upon  the 


56  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

level  field,  which  belonged  to  it,  its  own  domain,  the  whole 
scene  together  brought  to  our  minds  an  image  of  the 
retiredness  and  sober  elegance  of  a  nunnery ;  but  this 
might  be  owing  to  the  greyness  of  the  afternoon,  and  our 
having  come  immediately  from  Glasgow,  and  through  a 
country  which,  till  now,  had  either  had  a  townish  taint,  or 
at  best  little  of  rural  beauty.  While  we  were  looking  at 
the  house  we  overtook  a  foot-traveller,  who,  like  many 
others,  began  to  talk  about  our  car.  We  alighted  to  walk 
up  a  hill,  and,  continuing  the  conversation,  the  man  told 
us,  with  something  like  a  national  pride,  that  it  belonged 
to  a  Scotch  Lord,  Lord  Semple ;  he  added,  that  a  little 
further  on  we  should  see  a  much  finer  prospect,  as  fine  a  one 
as  ever  we  had  seen  in  our  lives.  Accordingly,  when  we 
came  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  it  opened  upon  us  most  magni- 
ficently. We  saw  the  Clyde,  now  a  stately  sea-river,  wind- 
ing away  mile  after  mile,  spotted  with  boats  and  ships,  each 
side  of  the  river  hilly,  the  right  populous  with  single  houses 
and  villages — Dunglass  Castle  upon  a  promontory,  the 
whole  view  terminated  by  the  rock  of  Dumbarton,  at  five 
or  six  miles  distance,  which  stands  by  itself,  without  any 
hills  near  it,  like  a  sea-rock. 

We  travelled  for  some  time  near  the  river,  passing 
through  clusters  of  houses  which  seemed  to  owe  their 
existence  rather  to  the  wealth  of  the  river  than  the  land, 
for  the  banks  were  mostly  bare,  and  the  soil  appeared 
poor,  even  near  the  water.  The  left  side  of  the  river 
was  generally  uninhabited  and  moorish,  yet  there  are 
some  beautiful  spots  :  for  instance,  a  nobleman's  house,* 
where  the  fields  and  trees  were  rich,  and,  in  combina- 
tion with  the  river,  looked  very  lovely.  As  we  went  along 
*  No  doubt  Erskine  House,  the  seat  of  Lord  Blantyre.—  Ed. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  57 

William  and  I  were  reminded  of  the  views  upon  the 
Thames  in  Kent,  which,  though  greatly  superior  in  rich- 
ness and  softness,  are  much  inferior  in  grandeur.  Not  far 
from  Dumbarton,  we  passed  under  some  rocky,  copse- 
covered  hills,  which  were  so  like  some  of  the  hills  near 
Grasrnere  that  we  could  have  half  believed  they  were  the 
same.  Arrived  at  Dumbarton  before  it  was  dark,  having 
pushed  on  briskly  that  we  might  have  start  of  a  traveller 
at  the  inn,  who  was  following  us  as  fast  as  he  could  in  a 
gig.  Every  front  room  was  full,  and  we  were  afraid  we 
should  not  have  been  admitted.  They  put  us  into  a  little 
parlour,  dirty,  and  smelling  of  liquors,  the  table  uncleaned, 
and  not  a  chair  in  its  place ;  we  were  glad,  however,  of  our 
sorry  accommodations. 

While  tea  was  preparing  we  lolled  at  our  ease,  and 
though  the  room-window  overlooked  the  stable-yard,  and 
at  our  entrance  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  but  gloom 
and  unloveliness,  yet  while  I  lay  stretched  upon  the  carriage 
cushions  on  three  chairs,  I  discovered  a  little  side  peep 
which  was  enough  to  set  the  mind  at  work.  It  was  no 
more  than  a  smoky  vessel  lying  at  anchor,  with  its  bare 
masts,  a  clay  hut  and  the  shelving  bank  of  the  river,  with 
a  green  pasture  above.  Perhaps  you  will  think  that 
there  is  not  much  in  this,  as  I  describe  it :  it  is  true ;  but 
the  effect  produced  by  these  simple  objects,  as  they  hap- 
pened to  be  combined,  together  with  the  gloom  of  the 
evening,  was  exceedingly  wild.  Our  room  was  parted  by 
a  slender  partition  from  a  large  dining-room,  in  which 
were  a  number  of  officers  and  their  wives,  who,  after  the 
first  hour,  never  ceased  singing,  dancing,  laughing,  or  loud 
talking.  The  ladies  sang  some  pretty  songs,  a  great  relief 
to  us.  We  went  early  to  bed ;  but  poor  Coleridge  could 


58  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

not  sleep  for  the  noise  at  the  street  door ;  he  lay  in  the 
parlour  below  stairs.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  in  the  best 
inns  of  Scotland  to  have  shutting-up  beds  in  the  sitting- 
rooms. 

Wednesday,  August  24^. — As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over, 
"William  and  I  walked  towards  the  Castle,  a  short  mile  from 
the  town.  We  overtook  two  young  men,  who,  on  our  ask- 
ing the  road,  offered  to  conduct  us,  though  it  might  seem 
it  was  not  easy  to  miss  our  way,  for  the  rock  rises  singly  by  it- 
self from  the  plain  on  which  the  town  stands.  The  rock  of 
Dumbarton  is  very  grand  when  you  are  close  to  it,  but  at 
a  little  distance,  under  an  ordinary  sky,  and  in  open  day,  it 
is  not  grand,  but  curiously  wild.  The  castle  and  fortifica- 
tions add  little  effect  to  the  general  view  of  the  rock, 
especially  since  the  building  of  a  modern  house,  which  is 
white-washed,  and  consequently  jars,  wherever  it  is  seen, 
with  the  natural  character  of  the  place.  There  is  a  path 
up  to  the  house,  but  it  being  low  water  we  could  walk 
round  the  rock,  which  we  resolved  to  do.  On  that  side 
next  the  town  green  grass  grows  to  a  considerable  height 
up  the  rock,  but  wherever  the  river  borders  upon  it,  it  is 
naked  stone.  I  never  saw  rock  in  nobler  masses,  or  more 
deeply  stained  by  time  and  weather ;  nor  is  this  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  it  is  in  the  very  eye  of  sea-storms  and 
land-storms,  of  mountain  winds  and  water  winds.  It  is 
of  all  colours,  but  a  rusty  yellow  predominates.  As  we 
walked  along,  we  could  not  but  look  up  continually,  and 
the  mass  above  being  on  every  side  so  huge,  it  appeared 
more  wonderful  than  when  we  saw  the  whole  together. 

We  sat  down  on  one  of  the  large  stones  which  lie  scattered 
near  the  base  of  the  rock,  with  sea-weed  growing  amongst 


A  TOUR  f.V  SCOTLAND.  59 

them.  Above  our  heads  the  rock  was  perpendicular  for  a 
considerable  height,  nay,  as  it  seemed,  to  the  very  top,  and 
on  the  brink  of  the  precipice  a  few  sheep,  two  of  them  rams 
with  twisted  horns,  stood,  as  if  on  the  look-out  over  the  wide 
country.  At  the  same  time  we  saw  a  sentinel  in  his  red 
coat,  walking  backwards  and  forwards  between  us  and  the 
sky,  with  his  firelock  over  his  shoulder.  The  sheep,  I  sup- 
pose owing  to  our  being  accustomed  to  see  them  in  similar 
situations,  appeared  to  retain  their  real  size,  while,  on  the 
contrary,  the  soldier  seemed  to  be  diminished  by  the  dis- 
tance till  he  almost  looked  like  a  puppet  moved  with  wires 
for  the  pleasure  of  children,  or  an  eight  years'  old  drummer 
in  his  stiff,  manly  dress  beside  a  company  of  grenadiers.  I 
had  never  before,  perhaps,  thought  of  sheep  and  men  in 
soldiers'  dresses  at  the  same  time,  and  here  they  were 
brought  together  in  a  strange  fantastic  way.  As  will  be 
easily  conceived,  the  fearlessness  and  stillness  of  those  quiet 
creatures,  on  the  brow  of  the  rock,  pursuing  their  natural 
occupations,  contrasted  with  the  restless  and  apparently 
unmeaning  motions  of  the  dwarf  soldier,  added  not  a  little 
to  the  general  effect  of  this  place,  which  is  that  of  wild 
singularity,  and  the  whole  was  aided  by  a  blustering  wind 
and  a  gloomy  sky.  Coleridge  joined  us,  and  we  went  up 
to  the  top  of  the  rock 

The  road  to  a  considerable  height  is  through  a  narrow 
cleft,  in  which  a  flight  of  steps  is  hewn ;  the  steps  nearly 
fill  the  cleft,  and  on  each  side  the  rocks  form  a  high  and 
irregular  wall ;  it  is  almost  like  a  long  sloping  cavern,  only 
that  it  is  roofed  by  the  sky.  We  came  to  the  barracks ; 
soldiers'  wives  were  hanging  out  linen  upon  the  rails,  while 
the  wind  beat  about  them  furiously — there  was  nothing 
which  it  could  set  in  motion  but  the  garments  of  the 


60  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

women  and  the  linen  upon  the  rails;  the  grass — for  we 
had  now  come  to  green  grass — was  close  and  smooth,  and 
not  one  pile  an  inch  above  another,  and  neither  tree  nor 
shrub.  The  standard  pole  stood  erect  without  a  flag.  The 
rock  has  two  summits,  one  much  broader  and  higher  than 
the  other.  When  we  were  near  to  the  top  of  the  lower 
eminence  we  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  a  little  garden  of 
flowers  and  vegetables  belonging  to  the  soldiers.  There 
are  three  distinct  and  very  noble  prospects — the  first  up 
the  Clyde  towards  Glasgow — Dunglass  Castle,  seen  on  its 
promontory — boats,  sloops,  hills,  and  many  buildings ; 
the  second,  down  the  river  to  the  sea — Greenock  and  Port- 
Glasgow,  and  the  distant  mountains  at  the  entrance  of 
Loch  Long;  and  the  third  extensive  and  distant  view  is 
up  the  Leven,  which  here  falls  into  the  Clyde,  to  the 
mountains  of  Loch  Lomond.  The  distant  mountains  in 
all  these  views  were  obscured  by  mists  and  dingy  clouds, 
but  if  the  grand  outline  of  any  one  of  the  views  can  be 
seen,  it  is  sufficient  recompence  for  the  trouble  of  climbing 
the  rock  of  Dumbarton. 

The  soldier  who  was  our  guide  told  us  that  an  old  ruin 
which  we  came  to  at  the  top  of  the  higher  eminence  had 
been  a  wind-mill — an  inconvenient  station,  though  certainly 
a  glorious  place  for  wind ;  perhaps  if  it  really  had  been  a 
wind-mill  it  was  only  for  the  use  of  the  garrison.  We 
looked  over  cannons  on  the  battery- walls,  and  saw  in  an 
open  field  below  the  yeomanry  cavalry  exercising,  while 
we  could  hear  from  the  town,  which  was  full  of  soldiers, 
'  Dumbarton's  drums  beat  bonny,  0  ! '  Yet  while  we  stood 
upon  this  eminence,  rising  up  so  far  as  it  does — inland,  and 
having  the  habitual  old  English  feeling  of  our  own  security 
as  islanders — we  could  not  help  looking  upon  the  fortress, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  61 

in  spite  of  its  cannon  and  soldiers,  and  the  rumours  of  in- 
vasion, as  set  up  against  the  hostilities  of  wind  and  weather 
rather  than  for  any  other  warfare.  On  our  return  we 
were  invited  into  the  guard-room,  about  half-way  down 
the  rock,  where  we  were  shown  a  large  rusty  sword,  which 
they  called  Wallace's  Sword,  and  a  trout  boxed  up  in  a  well 
close  by,  where  they  said  he  had  been  confined  for  upwards 
of  thirty  years.  For  the  pleasure  of  the  soldiers,  who  were 
anxious  that  we  should  see  him,  we  took  some  pains  to 
spy  him  out  in  his  black  den,  and  at  last  succeeded.  It 
was  pleasing  to  observe  how  much  interest  the  poor 
soldiers — though  themselves  probably  new  to  the  place 
— seemed  to  attach  to  this  antiquated  inhabitant  of  their 
garrison. 

When  we  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  rock  along  the 
same  road  by  which  we  had  ascended,  we  made  our  way  over 
the  rough  stones  left  bare  by  the  tide,  round  the  bottom 
of  the  rock,  to  the  point  where  we  had  set  off.  This  is  a 
wild  and  melancholy  walk  on  a  blustering  cloudy  day  : 
the  naked  bed  of  the  river,  scattered  over  with  sea-weed ; 
grey  swampy  fields  on  the  other  shore;  sea-birds  flying 
overhead;  the  high  rock  perpendicular  and  bare.  We 
came  to  two  very  large  fragments,  which  had  fallen  from 
the  main  rock ;  Coleridge  thought  that  one  of  them  was 
as  large  as  Bowder-Stone,*  William  and  I  did  not ;  but  it  is 
impossible  to  judge  accurately;  we  probably,  without  know- 
ing it,  compared  them  with  the  whole  mass  from  which  they 
had  fallen,  which,  from  its  situation,  we  consider  as  one 
rock  or  stone,  and  there  is  no  object  of  the  kind  for  com- 
parison with  the  Bowder-Stone.  When  we  leave  the  shore 

*A  huge  isolated  rock  in  Borrowdale,  Cumberland,  which  bears  that 
name. — Ed. 


62  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

of  the  Clyde  grass  begins  to  show  itself  on  the  rock ;  go  a 
considerable  way — still  under  the  rock — along  a  flat  field, 
and  pass  immediately  below  the  white  house,  which  where- 
ever  seen  looks  so  ugly. 

Left  Dumbarton  at  about  eleven  o'clock.  The  sky  was 
cheerless  and  the  air  ungenial,  which  we  regretted,  as  we 
were  going  to  Loch  Lomond,  and  wished  to  greet  the  first 
of  the  Scottish  lakes  with  our  cheerfullest  and  best  feelings. 
Crossed  the  Leven  at  the  end  of  Dumbarton,  and,  when  we 
looked  behind,  had  a  pleasing  view  of  the  town,  bridge,  and 
rock ;  but  when  we  took  in  a  reach  of  the  river  at  the  dis- 
tance of  perhaps  half  a  mile,  the  swamp  ground,  being  so 
near  a  town,  and  not  in  its  natural  wildness,  but  seemingly 
half  cultivated,  with  houses  here  and  there,  gave  us  an  idea 
of  extreme  poverty  of  soil,  or  that  the  inhabitants  were 
either  indolent  or  miserable.  We  had  to  travel  four  miles 
on  the  banks  of  the  '  Water  of  Leven '  before  we  should 
come  to  Loch  Lomond.  Having  expected  a  grand  river 
from  so  grand  a  lake,  we  were  disappointed  ;  for  it  appeared 
to  me  not  to  be  very  much  larger  than  the  Emont,  and  is 
not  near  so  beautiful ;  but  we  must  not  forget  that  the  day 
was  cold  and  gloomy.  Near  Dumbarton  it  is  like  a  river 
in  a  flat  country,  or  under  the  influence  of  tides ;  but  a  little 
higher  up  it  resembles  one  of  our  rivers,  flowing  through  a 
vale  of  no  extreme  beauty,  though  prettily  wooded ;  the 
hills  on  each  side  not  very  high,  sloping  backwards  from 
the  bed  of  the  vale,  which  is  neither  very  narrow  nor  very 
wide ;  the  prospect  terminated  by  Ben  Lomond  and  other 
mountains.  The  vale  is  populous,  but  looks  as  if  it  were 
not  inhabited  by  cultivators  of  the  earth ;  the  houses  are 
chiefly  of  stone;  often  in  rows  by  the  river-side;  they 
stand  pleasantly,  but  have  a  tradish  look,  as  if  they  might 


A  TOUR  IN  S CO TLAND.  63 

have  been  off-sets  from  Glasgow.  We  saw  many  bleach- 
yards,  but  no  other  symptom  of  a  manufactory,  except 
something  in  the  houses  that  was  not  rural,  and  a  want 
of  independent  comforts.  Perhaps  if  the  river  had  been 
glittering  in  the  sun,  and  the  smoke  of  the  cottages  rising 
in  distinct  volumes  towards  the  sky,  as  I  have  seen  in  the 
vale  or  basin  below  Pillsden  in  Dorsetshire,  when  every 
cottage,  hidden  from  the  eye,  pointed  out  its  lurking-place 
by  an  upright  wreath  of  white  smoke,  the  whole  scene 
might  have  excited  ideas  of  perfect  cheerfulness. 

Here,  as  on  the  Nith,  and  much  more  than  in  the  Trough 
of  the  Clyde,  a  great  portion  of  the  ground  was  uncultivated, 
but  the  hills  being  less  wild,  the  river  more  stately,  and 
the  ground  not  heaved  up  so  irregularly  and  tossed  about, 
the  imperfect  cultivation  was  the  more  to  be  lamented, 
particularly  as  there  were  so  many  houses  near  the  river. 
In  a  small  enclosure  by  the  wayside  is  a  pillar  erected  to 
the  memory  of  Dr.  Smollett,  who  was  born  in  a  village  at 
a  little  distance,  which  we  could  see  at  the  same  time,  and 
where,  I  believe,  some  of  the  family  still  reside.  There  is 
a  long  Latin  inscription,  which  Coleridge  translated  for  my 
benefit.  The  Latin  is  miserably  bad* — as  Coleridge  said, 
such  as  poor  Smollett,  who  was  an  excellent  scholar, 
would  have  been  ashamed  of. 

Before  we  came  to  Loch  Lomond  the  vale  widened,  and 
became  less  populous.  We  climbed  over  a  wall  into  a  large 
field  to  have  a  better  front  view  of  the  lake  than  from  the 
road.  This  view  is  very  much  like  that  from  Mr.  Clark- 
son's  windows  :  the  mountain  in  front  resembles  Hallan ; 

*  The  inscription  on  the  pillar  was  written  by  Professor  George  Stuart 
of  Edinburgh,  John  Ramsay  of  Ochtertyre,  and  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  ;  for 
Dr.  Jolinson's  share  in  the  work  see  Croker's  Boswell,  p.  392.—  Ed. 


64  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

indeed,  is  almost  the  same ;  but  Ben  Lomond  is  not  seen 
standing  in  such  majestic  company  as  Helvellyn,  and  the 
meadows  are  less  beautiful  than  Ulswater.  The  reach 
of  the  lake  is  very  magnificent ;  you  see  it,  as  Ulswater  is 
seen  beyond  the  promontory  of  Old  Church,  winding  away 
behind  a  large  woody  island  that  looks  like  a  promontory. 
The  outlet  of  the  lake — we  had  a  distinct  view  of  it  in  the 
field — is  very  insignificant.  The  bulk  of  the  river  is  frittered 
away  by  small  alder  bushes,  as  I  recollect ;  I  do  not  remember 
that  it  was  reedy,  but  the  ground  had  a  swampy  appearance ; 
and  here  the  vale  spreads  out  wide  and  shapeless,  as  if  the 
river  were  born  to  no  inheritance,  had  no  sheltering  cradle, 
no  hills  of  its  own.  As  we  have  seen,  this  does  not  con- 
tinue long ;  it  flows  through  a  distinct,  though  not  a 
magnificent  vale.  But,  having  lost  the  pastoral  character 
which  it  had  in  the  youthful  days  of  Smollett — if  the  de- 
scription in  his  ode  to  his  native  stream  be  a  faithful  one — 
it  is  less  interesting  than  it  was  then. 

The  road  carried  us  sometimes  close  to  the  lake,  some- 
times at  a  considerable  distance  from  it,  over  moorish 
grounds,  or  through  half-cultivated  enclosures ;  we  had  the 
lake  on  our  right,  which  is  here  so  wide  that  the  opposite 
hills,  not  being  high,  are  cast  into  insignificance,  and  we 
could  not  distinguish  any  buildings  near  the  water,  if  any 
there  were.  It  is  however  always  delightful  to  travel  by 
a  lake  of  clear  waters,  if  you  see  nothing  else  but  a  very 
ordinary  country ;  but  we  had  some  beautiful  distant  views, 
one  in  particular,  down  the  high  road,  through  a  vista  of 
over-arching  trees ;  and  the  near  shore  was  frequently  very 
pleasing,  with  its  gravel  banks,  bendings,  and  small  bays. 
In  one  part  it  was  bordered  for  a  considerable  way  by 
irregular  groups  of  forest  trees  or  single  stragglers,  which, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  65 

although  not  large,  seemed  old ;  their  branches  were  stunted 
and  knotty,  as  if  they  had  been  striving  with  storms,  and 
had  half  yielded  to  them.  Under  these  trees  we  had  a 
variety  of  pleasing  views  across  the  lake,  and  the  very  roll- 
ing over  the  road  and  looking  at  its  smooth  and  beautiful 
surface  was  itself  a  pleasure.  It  was  as  smooth  as  a  gravel 
walk,  and  of  the  bluish  colour  of  some  of  the  roads  among 
the  lakes  of  the  north  of  England. 

Passed  no  very  remarkable  place  till  we  came  to  Sir  James 
Colquhoun's  house,  which  stands  upon  a  large,  flat,  woody 
peninsula,  looking  towards  Ben  Lomond.  There  must  be 
many  beautiful  walks  among  the  copses  of  the  peninsula, 
and  delicious  views  over  the  water ;  but  the  general  surface 
of  the  country  is  poor,  and  looks  as  if  it  ought  to  be  rich 
and  well  peopled,  for  it  is  not  mountainous ;  nor  had  we 
passed  any  hills  which  a  Cumbrian  would  dignify  with  the 
name  of  mountains.  There  was  many  a  little  plain  or 
gently-sloping  hill  covered  with  poor  heath  or  broom  with- 
out trees,  where  one  should  have  liked  to  see  a  cottage  in  a 
bower  of  wood,  with  its  patch  of  corn  and  potatoes,  and  a 
green  field  with  a  hedge  to  keep  it  warm.  As  we  advanced 
we  perceived  less  of  the  coldness  of  poverty,  the  hills  not 
having  so  large  a  space  between  them  and  the  lake.  The 
surface  of  the  hills  being  in  its  natural  state,  is  always 
beautiful ;  but  where  there  is  only  a  half  cultivated  and 
half  peopled  soil  near  the  banks  of  a  lake  or  river,  the  idea 
is  forced  upon  one  that  they  who  do  live  there  have  not 
much  of  cheerful  enjoyment. 

But  soon  we  came  to  just  such  a  place  as  we  had  wanted 
to  see.  The  road  was  close  to  the  water,  and  a  hill,  bare, 
rocky,  or  with  scattered  copses  rose  above  it.  A  deep  shade 
hung  over  the  road,  where  some  little  boys  were  at  play; 

E 


66  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

we  expected  a  dwelling-house  of  some  sort ;  and  when  we 
came  nearer,  saw  three  or  four  thatched  huts  under  the 
trees,  and  at  the  same  moment  felt  that  it  was  a  paradise. 
We  had  before  seen  the  lake  only  as  one  wide  plain  of 
water ;  but  here  the  portion  of  it  which  we  saw  was  bounded 
by  a  high  and  steep,  heathy  and  woody  island  opposite, 
which  did  not  appear  like  an  island,  but  the  main  shore, 
and  framed  out  a  little  oblong  lake  apparently  not  so  broad 
as  Rydale-water,  with  one  small  island  covered  with  trees, 
resembling  some  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  holms  of 
Windermere,  and  only  a  narrow  river's  breadth  from  the 
shore.  This  was  a  place  where  we  should  have  liked  to 
have  lived,  and  the  only  one  we  had  seen  near  Loch  Lomond. 
How  delightful  to  have  a  little  shed  concealed  under  the 
branches  of  the  fairy  island !  the  cottages  and  the  island 
might  have  been  made  for  the  pleasure  of  each  other.  It 
was  but  like  a  natural  garden,  the  distance  was  so  small ; 
nay,  one  could  not  have  forgiven  any  one  living  there,  not 
compelled  to  daily  labour,  if  he  did  not  connect  it  with  his 
dwelling  by  some  feeling  of  domestic  attachment,  like  what 
he  has  for  the  orchard  where  his  children  play.  I  thought, 
what  a  place  for  William !  he  might  row  himself  over  with 
twenty  strokes  of  the  oars,  escaping  from  the  business  of 
the  house,  and  as  safe  from  intruders,  with  his  boat  anchored 
beside  him,  as  if  he  had  locked  himself  up  in  the  strong 
tower  of  a  castle.  We  were  unwilling  to  leave  this  sweet 
spot ;  but  it  was  so  simple,  and  therefore  so  rememberable, 
that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  we  could  have  carried  it  away 
with  us.  It  was  nothing  more  than  a  small  lake  enclosed 
by  trees  at  the  ends  and  by  the  way-side,  and  opposite  by 
the  island,  a  steep  bank  on  which  the  purple  heath  was 
seen  under  low  oak  coppice-wood,  a  group  of  houses  over- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  67 

shadowed  by  trees,  and  a  bending  road.  There  was  one 
remarkable  tree,  an  old  larch  with  hairy  branches,  which 
sent  out  its  main  stem  horizontally  across  the  road,  an  object 
that  seemed  to  have  been  singled  out  for  injury  where  every- 
thing else  was  lovely  and  thriving,  tortured  into  that  shape 
by  storms,  which  one  might  have  thought  could  not  have 
reached  it  in  that  sheltered  place. 

We  were  now  entering  into  the  Highlands.  I  believe 
Luss  is  the  place  where  we  were  told  that  country  begins ; 
but  at  these  cottages  I  would  have  gladly  believed  that  we 
were  there,  for  it  was  like  a  new  region.  The  huts  were 
after  the  Highland  fashion,  and  the  boys  who  were  playing 
wore  the  Highland  dress  and  philabeg.  On  going  into  a 
new  country  I  seem  to  myself  to  waken  up,  and  afterwards 
it  surprises  me  to  remember  how  much  alive  I  have  been 
to  the  distinctions  of  dress,  household  arrangements,  etc.  etc., 
and  what  a  spirit  these  little  things  give  to  wild,  barren,  or 
ordinary  places.  The  cottages  are  within  about  two  miles 
of  Luss.  Came  in  view  of  several  islands ;  but  the  lake 
being  so  very  wide,  we  could  see  little  of  their  peculiar 
beauties,  and  they,  being  large,  hardly  looked  like  islands. 

Passed  another  gentleman's  house,  which  stands  prettily 
in  a  bay,*  and  soon  after  reached  Luss,  where  we  intended 
to  lodge.  On  seeing  the  outside  of  the  inn,  we  were  glad 
that  we  were  to  have  such  pleasant  quarters.  It  is  a  nice- 
looking  white  house,  by  the  road-side ;  but  there  was  not 
much  promise  of  hospitality  when  we  stopped  at  the  door  : 
no  person  came  out  till  we  had  shouted  a  considerable  time. 
A  barefooted  lass  showed  me  up-stairs,  and  again  my  hopes 
revived  ;  the  house  was  clean  for  a  Scotch  inn,  and  the 
view  very  pleasant  to  the  lake,  over  the  top  of  the  village 
*  Canistraddan  House  and  bay. — Ed. 


68  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

— a  cluster  of  thatched  houses  among  trees,  with  a  large 
chapel  in  the  midst  of  them.  Like  most  of  the  Scotch  kirks 
which  we  had  seen,  this  building  resembles  a  big  house ;  but 
it  is  a  much  more  pleasing  building  than  they  generally  are, 
and  has  one  of  our  rustic  belfries,  not  unlike  that  at  Amble- 
side,  with  two  bells  hanging  in  the  open  air.7  We  chose  one 
of  the  back  rooms  to  sit  in,  being  more  snug,  and  they  looked 
upon  a  very  sweet  prospect — a  stream  tumbling  down  a  cleft 
or  glen  on  the  hill-side,  rocky  coppice  ground,  a  rural  lane, 
such  as  we  have  from  house  to  house  at  Grasmere,  and  a 
few  out -houses.  We  had  a  poor  dinner,  and  sour  ale  ;  but 
as  long  as  the  people  were  civil  we  were  contented. 

Coleridge  was  not  well,  so  he  did  not  stir  out,  but  Wil- 
liam and  I  walked  through  the  village  to  the  shore  of  the 
lake.  When  I  came  close  to  the  houses,  I  could  not  but 
regret  a  want  of  loveliness  correspondent  with  the  beauty 
of  the  situation  and  the  appearance  of  the  village  at  a  little 
distance ;  not  a  single  ornamented  garden.  We  saw  pota- 
toes and  cabbages,  but  never  a  honeysuckle.  Yet  there 
were  wild  gardens,  as  beautiful  as  any  that  ever  man 
cultivated,  overgrowing  the  roofs  of  some  of  the  cot- 
tages, flowers  and  creeping  plants.  How  elegant  were  the 
wreaths  of  the  bramble  that  had  'built  its  own  bower"  upon 
the  riggins  in  several  parts  of  the  village ;  therefore  we 
had  chiefly  to  regret  the  want  of  gardens,  as  they  are 
symptoms  of  leisure  and  comfort,  or  at  least  of  no  painful 
industry.  Here  we  first  saw  houses  without  windows,  the 
smoke  coming  out  of  the  open  window-places ;  the  chimneys 
were  like  stools  with  four  legs,  a  hole  being  left  in  the  roof 
for  the  smoke,  and  over  that  a  slate  placed  upon  four 
sticks — sometimes  the  whole  leaned  as  if  it  were  going  to 
fall.  The  fields  close  to  Luss  lie  flat  to  the  lake,  and  a 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  69 

river,  as  large  as  our  stream  near  the  church  at  Grasmere, 
flows  by  the  end  of  the  village,  being  the  same  which  comes 
down  the  glen  behind  the  inn ;  it  is  very  much  like  our 
stream — beds  of  blue  pebbles  upon  the  shores. 

We  walked  towards  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  from  a 
large  pasture  field  near  Luss,  a  gentle  eminence,  had  a  very 
interesting  view  back  upon  the  village  and  the  lake  and 
islands  beyond.  We  then  perceived  that  Luss  stood  in 
the  centre  of  a  spacious  bay,  and  that  close  to  it  lay 
another  small  one,  within  the  larger,  where  the  boats  of  the 
inhabitants  were  lying  at  anchor,  a  beautiful  natural  har- 
bour. The  islands,  as  we  look  down  the  water,  are  seen  in 
great  beauty.  Inch-ta-vanach,  the  same  that  framed  out 
the  little  peaceful  lake  which  we  had  passed  in  the  morn- 
ing, towers  above  the  rest.  The  lake  is  very  wide  here, 
and  the  opposite  shores  not  being  lofty  the  chief  part  of 
the  permanent  beauty  of  this  view  is  among  the  islands, 
and  on  the  near  shore,  including  the  low  promontories  of 
the  bay  of  Luss,  and  the  village ;  and  we  saw  it  under  its 
dullest  aspect — the  air  cold,  the  sky  gloomy,  without  a 
glimpse  of  sunshine. 

On  a  splendid  evening,  with  the  light  of  the  sun  diffused 
over  the  whole  islands,  distant  hills,  and  the  broad  expanse 
of  the  lake,  with  its  creeks,  bays,  and  little  slips  of  water 
among  the  islands,  it  must  be  a  glorious  sight. 

Up  the  lake  there  are  no  islands ;  Ben  Lomond  termi- 
nates the  view,  without  any  other  large  mountains;  no 
clouds  were  upon  it,  therefore  we  saw  the  whole  size  and 
form  of  the  mountain,  yet  it  did  not  appear  to  me  so 
large  as  Skiddaw  does  from  Derwent-water.  Continued 
our  walk  a  considerable  way  towards  the  head  of  the  lake, 
and  went  up  a  high  hill,  but  saw  no  other  reach  of  the 


70  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

water.  The  hills  on  the  Luss  side  become  much  steeper, 
and  the  lake,  having  narrowed  a  little  above  Luss,  was  no 
longer  a  very  wide  lake  where  we  lost  sight  of  it. 

Came  to  a  bark  hut  by  the  shores,  and  sate  for  some 
time  under  the  shelter  of  it.  While  we  were  here  a  poor 
woman  with  a  little  child  by  her  side  begged  a  penny  of 
me,  and  asked  where  she  could  '  find  quarters  in  the  vil- 
lage.' She  was  a  travelling  beggar,  a  native  of  Scotland, 
had  often  'heard  of  that  water,'  but  was  never  there 
before.  This  woman's  appearance,  while  the  wind  was 
rustling  about  us,  and  the  waves  breaking  at  our  feet,  was 
very  melancholy  :  the  waters  looked  wide,  the  hills  many, 
and  dark,  and  far  off — no  house  but  at  Luss.  I  thought 
what  a  dreary  waste  must  this  lake  be  to  such  poor  crea- 
tures, struggling  with  fatigue  and  poverty  and  unknown 
ways! 

We  ordered  tea  when  we  reached  the  inn,  and  desired 
the  girl  to  light  us  a  fire ;  she  replied,  '  I  dinna  ken 
whether  she  '11  gie  fire,'  meaning  her  mistress.  We  told 
her  we  did  not  wish  her  mistress  to  give  fire,  we  only 
desired  her  to  let  her  make  it  and  we  would  pay  for  it. 
The  girl  brought  in  the  tea-things,  but  no  fire,  and  when  I 
asked  if  she  was  coming  to  light  it,  she  said  '  her  mistress 
was  not  varra  willing  to  gie  fire.'  At  last,  however,  on  our 
insisting  upon  it,  the  fire  was  lighted  :  we  got  tea  by  candle- 
light, and  spent  a  comfortable  evening.  I  had  seen  the 
landlady  before  we  went  out,  for,  as  had  been  usual  in  all 
the  country  inns,  there  was  a  demur  respecting  beds,  not- 
withstanding the  house  was  empty,  and  there  were  at  least 
half-a-dozen  spare  beds.  Her  countenance  corresponded 
with  the  unkindness  of  denying  us  a  fire  on  a  cold  night,8 
for  she  was  the  most  cruel  and  hateful-looking  woman  I 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  71 

ever  saw.  She  was  overgrown  with  fat,  and  was  sitting 
with  her  feet  and  legs  in  a  tub  of  water  for  the  dropsy, — 
probably  brought  on  by  whisky-drinking.  The  sympathy 
which  I  felt  and  expressed  for  her,  on  seeing  her  in  this 
wretched  condition — for  her  legs  were  swollen  as  thick  as 
mill-posts — seemed  to  produce  no  effect ;  and  I  was  obliged, 
after  five  minutes'  conversation,  to  leave  the  affair  of  the 
beds  undecided.  Coleridge  had  some  talk  with  her 
daughter,  a  smart  lass  in  a  cotton  gown,  with  a  bandeau 
round  her  head,  without  shoes  and  stockings.  She  told 
Coleridge  with  some  pride  that  she  had  not  spent  all  her 
time  at  Luss,  but  was  then  fresh  from  Glasgow. 

It  came  on  a  very  stormy  night;  the  wind  rattled  every 
window  in  the  house,  and  it  rained  heavily.  William  and 
Coleridge  had  bad  beds,  in  a  two-bedded  room  in  the  gar- 
rets, though  there  were  empty  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  and 
they  were  disturbed  by  a  drunken  man,  who  had  come  to 
the  inn  when  we  were  gone  to  sleep. 

Thursday,  August  25th. — "We  were  glad  when  we  awoke 
to  see  that  it  was  a  fine  morning — the  sky  was  bright 
blue,  with  quick-moving  clouds,  the  hills  cheerful,  lights 
and  shadows  vivid  and  distinct.  The  village  looked  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  this  morning  from  the  garret  windows 
— the  stream  glittering  near  it,  while  it  flowed  under  trees 
through  the  level  fields  to  the  lake.  After  breakfast,  Wil- 
liam and  I  went  down  to  the  water-side.  The  roads 
were  as  dry  as  if  no  drop  of  rain  had  fallen,  which  added 
to  the  pure  cheerfulness  of  the  appearance  of  the  village, 
and  even  of  the  distant  prospect,  an  effect  which  I  always 
seem  to  perceive  from  clearly  bright  roads,  for  they  are 
always  brightened  by  rain,  after  a  storm;  but  when  we 


72  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

came  among  the  houses  I  regretted  even  more  than  last 
night,  because  the  contrast  was  greater,  the  slovenliness  and 
dirt  near  the  doors ;  and  could  not  but  remember,  with 
pain  from  the  contrast,  the  cottages  of  Somersetshire, 
covered  with  roses  and  myrtle,  and  their  small  gardens  of 
herbs  and  flowers.  While  lingering  by  the  shore  we  began 
to  talk  with  a  man  who  offered  to  row  us  to  Inch-ta-vanach ; 
but  the  sky  began  to  darken ;  and  the  wind  being  high, 
we  doubted  whether  we  should  venture,  therefore  made  no 
engagement ;  he  offered  to  sell  me  some  thread,  pointing 
to  his  cottage,  and  added  that  many  English  ladies  carried 
thread  away  from  Luss. 

Presently  after  Coleridge  joined  us,  and  we  determined  to 
go  to  the  island.  I  was  sorry  that  the  man  who  had  been 
talking  with  us  was  not  our  boatman ;  William  by  some 
chance  had  engaged  another.  We  had  two  rowers  and  a 
strong  boat;  so  I  felt  myself  bold,  though  there  was  a 
great  chance  of  a  high  wind.  The  nearest  point  of  Inch- 
ta-vanach  is  not  perhaps  more  than  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
from  Luss ;  we  did  not  land  there,  but  rowed  round  the 
end,  and  landed  on  that  side  which  looks  towards  our 
favourite  cottages,  and  their  own  island,  which,  wherever 
seen,  is  still  their  own.  It  rained  a  little  when  we  landed, 
and  I  took  my  cloak,  which  afterwards  served  us  to  sit 
down  upon  in  our  road  up  the  hill,  when  the  day  grew 
much  finer,  with  gleams  of  sunshine.  This  island  belongs 
to  Sir  James  Colquhoun,  who  has  made  a  convenient  road, 
that  winds  gently  to  the  top  of  it. 

We  had  not  climbed  far  before  we  were  stopped  by  a 
sudden  burst  of  prospect,  so  singular  and  beautiful  that 
it  was  like  a  flash  of  images  from  another  world.  We 
stood  with  our  backs  to  the  hill  of  the  island,  which  we 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  73 

were  ascending,  and  which  shut  out  Ben  Lomond  entirely, 
and  all  the  upper  part  of  the  lake,  and  we  looked  towards 
the  foot  of  the  lake,  scattered  over  with  islands  without 
beginning  and  without  end.  The  sun  shone,  and  the 
distant  hills  were  visible,  some  through  sunny  mists,  others 
in  gloom  with  patches  of  sunshine ;  the  lake  was  lost  under 
the  low  and  distant  hills,  and  the  islands  lost  in  the  lake, 
which  was  all  in  motion  with  travelling  fields  of  light,  or 
dark  shadows  under  rainy  clouds.  There  are  many  hills, 
but  no  commanding  eminence  at  a  distance  to  confine  the 
prospect,  so  that  the  land  seemed  endless  as  the  water. 

What  I  had  heard  of  Loch  Lomond,  or  any  other  place  in 
Great  Britain,  had  given  me  no  idea  of  anything  like  what 
we  beheld  :  it  was  an  outlandish  scene — we  might  have 
believed  ourselves  in  North  America.  The  islands  were  of 
every  possible  variety  of  shape  and  surface — hilly  and  level, 
large  and  small,  bare,  rocky,  pastoral,  or  covered  with  wood. 
Immediately  under  my  eyes  lay  one  large  flat  island,  bare 
and  green,  so  flat  and  low  that  it  scarcely  appeared  to  rise 
above  the  water,  with  straggling  peat-stacks  and  a  single 
hut  upon  one  of  its  out-shooting  promontories — for  it  was  of 
a  very  irregular  shape,  though  perfectly  flat.  Another,  its 
next  neighbour,  and  still  nearer  to  us,  was  covered  over 
with  heath  and  coppice-wood,  the  surface  undulating,  with 
flat  or  sloping  banks  towards  the  water,  and  hollow  places, 
cradle-like  valleys,  behind.  These  two  islands,  with  Inch- 
ta-vanach,  where  we  were  standing,  were  intermingled  with 
the  water,  I  might  say  interbedded  and  interveined  with 
it,  in  a  manner  that  was  exquisitely  pleasing.  There  were 
bays  innumerable,  straits  or  passages  like  calm  rivers,  land- 
locked lakes,  and,  to  the  main  water,  stormy  promontories. 
The  solitary  hut  on  the  flat  green  island  seemed  unsheltered 


74  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

and  desolate,  and  yet  not  wholly  so,  for  it  was  but  a  broad 
river's  breadth  from  the  covert  of  the  wood  of  the  other 
island.  Near  to  these  is  a  miniature,  an  islet  covered  with 
trees,  on  which  stands  a  small  ruin  that  looks  like  the 
remains  of  a  religious  house  ;  it  is  overgrown  with  ivy,  and 
were  it  not  that  the  arch  of  a  window  or  gateway  may  be 
distinctly  seen,  it  would  be  difficult  to  believe  that  it  was 
not  a  tuft  of  trees  growing  in  the  shape  of  a  ruin,  rather 
than  a  ruin  overshadowed  by  trees.  When  we  had  walked 
a  little  further  we  saw  below  us,  on  the  nearest  large  island, 
where  some  of  the  wood  had  been  cut  down,  a  hut,  which 
we  conjectured  to  be  a  bark  hut.  It  appeared  to  be  on 
the  shore  of  a  little  forest  lake,  enclosed  by  Inch-ta-vanach, 
where  we  were,  and  the  woody  island  on  which  the  hut 
stands. 

Beyond  we  had  the  same  intricate  view  as  before, 
and  could  discover  Dumbarton  rock  with  its  double  head. 
There  being  a  mist  over  it,  it  had  a  ghost-like  appearance — 
as  I  observed  to  William  and  Coleridge,  something  like  the 
Tor  of  Glastonbury  from  the  Dorsetshire  hills.  Right 
before  us,  on  the  flat  island  mentioned  before,  were  several 
small  single  trees  or  shrubs,  growing  at  different  distances 
from  each  other,  close  to  the  shore,  but  some  optical  delu- 
sion had  detached  them  from  the  land  on  which  they  stood, 
and  they  had  the  appearance  of  so  many  little  vessels  sailing 
along  the  coast  of  it.  I  mention  the  circumstance,  because, 
with  the  ghostly  image  of  Dumbarton  Castle,  and  the 
ambiguous  ruin  on  the  small  island,  it  was  much  in  the 
character  of  the  scene,  which  was  throughout  magical  and 
enchanting — a  new  world  in  its  great  permanent  outline 
and  composition,  and  changing  at  every  moment  in  every 
part  of  it  by  the  effect  of  sun  and  wind,  and  mist  and 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  75 

shower  and  cloud,  and  the  blending  lights  and  deep  shades 
which  took  place  of  each  other,  traversing  the  lake  in  every 
direction.  The  whole  was  indeed  a  strange  mixture  of 
soothing  and  restless  images,  of  images  inviting  to  rest, 
and  others  hurrying  the  fancy  away  into  an  activity  still 
more  pleasing  than  repose.  Yet,  intricate  and  homeless, 
that  is,  without  lasting  abiding-place  for  the  mind,  as  the 
prospect  was,  there  was  no  perplexity ;  we  had  still  a  guide 
to  lead  us  forward. 

Wherever  we  looked,  it  was  a  delightful  feeling  that 
there  was  something  beyond.  Meanwhile,  the  sense  of 
quiet  was  never  lost  sight  of;  the  little  peaceful  lakes 
among  the  islands  might  make  you  forget  that  the  great 
water,  Loch  Lomond,  was  so  near ;  and  yet  are  more 
beautiful,  because  you  know  that  it  is  so  :  they  have  their 
own  bays  and  creeks  sheltered  within  a  shelter.  When  we 
had  ascended  to  the  top  of  the  island  we  had  a  view  up  to 
Ben  Lomond,  over  the  long,  broad  water  without  spot  or 
rock  ;  and,  looking  backwards,  saw  the  islands  below  us 
as  on  a  map.  This  view,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  not 
nearly  so  interesting  as  those  we  had  seen  before.  We 
hunted  out  all  the  houses  on  the  shore,  which  were  very 
few  :  there  was  the  village  of  Luss,  the  two  gentlemen's 
houses,  our  favourite  cottages,  and  here  and  there  a  hut ; 
but  I  do  not  recollect  any  comfortable-looking  farm-houses, 
and  on  the  opposite  shore  not  a  single  dwelling.  The 
whole  scene  was  a  combination  of  natural  wildness,  loveli- 
ness, beauty,  and  barrenness,  or  rather  bareness,  yet  not 
comfortless  or  cold ;  but  the  whole  was  beautiful.  We 
were  too  far  off  the  more  distant  shore  to  distinguish  any 
particular  spots  which  we  might  have  regretted  were  not 
better  cultivated,  and  near  Luss  there  was  no  want  of  houses. 


76  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

After  we  had  left  the  island,  having  been  so  much  taken 
with  the  beauty  of  the  bark  hut  and  the  little  lake  by 
which  it  appeared  to  stand,  we  desired  the  boatman  to 
row  us  through  it,  and  we  landed  at  the  hut.  Walked 
upon  the  island  for  some  time,  and  found  out  sheltered 
places  for  cottages.  There  were  several  woodman's  huts, 
which,  with  some  scattered  fir-trees,  and  others  in  irre- 
gular knots,  that  made  a  delicious  murmuring  in  the  wind, 
added  greatly  to  the  romantic  effect  of  the  scene.  They 
were  built  in  the  form  of  a  cone  from  the  ground,  like 
savages'  huts,  the  door  being  just  large  enough  for  a  man 
to  enter  with  stooping.  Straw  beds  were  raised  on  logs  of 
wood,  tools  lying  about,  and  a  forked  bough  of  a  tree  was 
generally  suspended  from  the  roof  in  the  middle  to  hang  a 
kettle  upon.  It  was  a  place  that  might  have  been  just 
visited  by  new  settlers.  I  thought  of  Ruth  and  her 
dreams  of  romantic  love  : 

'  And  then  he  said  how  sweet  it  were, 
A  fisher  or  a  hunter  there, 
A  gardener  in  the  shade, 
Still  wandering  with  an  easy  mind, 
To  build  a  household  fire,  and  find 
A  home  in  every  gkde.' 

We  found  the  main  lake  very  stormy  when  we  had  left 
the  shelter  of  the  islands,  and  there  was  again  a  threaten- 
ing of  rain,  but  it  did  not  come  on.  I  wanted  much  to  go 
to  the  old  ruin,  but  the  boatmen  were  in  a  hurry  to  be  at 
home.  They  told  us  it  had  been  a  stronghold  built  by  a 
man  who  lived  there  alone,  and  was  used  to  swim  over 
and  make  depredations  on  the  shore, — that  nobody  could 
ever  lay  hands  on  him,  he  was  such  a  good  swimmer,  but 
at  last  they  caught  him  in  a  net.  The  men  pointed  out  to 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  77 

us  an  island  belonging  to  Sir  James  Colquhoun,  on  which 
were  a  great  quantity  of  deer. 

Arrived  at  the  inn  at  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  prepared 
to  depart  immediately  :  we  should  have  gone  with  great 
regret  if  the  weather  had  been  warmer  and  the  inn  more 
comfortable.  When  we  were  leaving  the  door,  a  party 
with  smart  carriage  and  servants  drove  up,  and  I  observed 
that  the  people  of  the  house  were  just  as  slow  in  their 
attendance  upon  them  as  on  us,  with  one  single  horse  and 
outlandish  Hibernian  vehicle. 

When  we  had  travelled  about  two  miles  the  lake  be- 
came considerably  narrower,  the  hills  rocky,  covered  with 
copses,  or  bare,  rising  more  immediately  from  the  bed  of 
the  water,  and  therefore  we  had  not  so  often  to  regret  the 
want  of  inhabitants.  Passed  by,  or  saw  at  a  distance, 
sometimes  a  single  cottage,  or  two  or  three  together,  but 
the  whole  space  between  Luss  and  Tarbet  is  a  solitude 
to  the  eye.  We  were  reminded  of  Ulswater,  but  missed 
the  pleasant  farms,  and  the  mountains  were  not  so  in- 
teresting :  we  had  not  seen  them  in  companies  or  brother- 
hoods rising  one  above  another  at  a  long  distance.  Ben 
Lomond  stood  alone,  opposite  to  us,  majestically  overlook- 
ing the  lake ;  yet  there  was  something  in  this  mountain 
which  disappointed  me, — a  want  of  massiveness  and  sim- 
plicity, perhaps  from  the  top  being  broken  into  three  dis- 
tinct stages.  The  road  carried  us  over  a  bold  promontory 
by  a  steep  and  high  ascent,  and  we  had  a  long  view  of  the 
lake  pushing  itself  up  in  a  narrow  line  through  an  avenue 
of  mountains,  terminated  by  the  mountains  at  the  head  of 
the  lake,  of  which  Ben  Lui,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  is  the 
most  considerable.  The  afternoon  was  showery  and 
misty,  therefore  we  did  not  see  this  prospect  so  distinctly 


78  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

as  we  could  have  wished,  but  there  was  a  grand  obscurity 
over  it  which  might  make  the  mountains  appear  more 
numerous. 

I  have  said  so  much  of  this  lake  that  I  am  tired  myself, 
and  I  fear  I  must  have  tired  my  friends.  We  had  a 
pleasant  journey  to  Tarbet ;  more  than  half  of  it  on  foot, 
for  the  road  was  hilly,  and  after  we  had  climbed  one  small 
hill  we  were  not  desirous  to  get  into  the  car  again,  seeing 
another  before  us,  and  our  path  was  always  delightful,  near 
the  lake,  and  frequently  through  woods.  When  we  were 
within  about  half  a  mile  of  Tarbet,  at  a  sudden  turning 
looking  to  the  left,  we  saw  a  very  craggy-topped  mountain 
amongst  other  smooth  ones ;  the  rocks  on  the  summit 
distinct  in  shape  as  if  they  were  buildings  raised  up  by 
man,  or  uncouth  images  of  some  strange  creature.  We 
called  out  with  one  voice,  '  That 's  what  we  wanted ! ' 
alluding  to  the  frame-like  uniformity  of  the  side-screens  of 
the  lake  for  the  last  five  or  six  miles.  As  we  conjectured, 
this  singular  mountain  was  the  famous  Cobbler,  near  Ar- 
rochar.  Tarbet  was  before  us  in  the  recess  of  a  deep, 
large  bay,  under  the  shelter  of  a  hill.  When  we  came  up 
to  the  village  we  had  to  inquire  for  the  inn,  there  being 
no  signboard.  It  was  a  well-sized  white  house,  the  best 
in  the  place.  We  were  conducted  up-stairs  into  a  sitting- 
room  that  might  make  any  good-humoured  travellers 
happy — a  square  room,  with  windows  on  each  side,  look- 
ing, one  way,  towards  the  mountains,  and  across  the  lake 
to  Ben  Lomond,  the  other. 

There  was  a  pretty  stone  house  before  (i.e.  towards  the 
lake)  some  huts,  scattered  trees,  two  or  three  green  fields 
with  hedgerows,  and  a  little  brook  making  its  way  towards 
the  lake ;  the  fields  are  almost  flat,  and  screened  on  that 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  79 

side  nearest  the  head  of  the  lake  by  a  hill,  which,  pushing 
itself  out,  forms  the  bay  of  Tarbet,  and,  towards  the  foot, 
by  a  gentle  slope  and  trees.  The  lake  is  narrow,  and  Ben 
Lomond  shuts  up  the  prospect,  rising  directly  from  the 
water.  We  could  have  believed  ourselves  to  be  by  the  side 
of  Ulswater,  at  Glenridden,  or  in  some  other  of  the  in- 
habited retirements  of  that  lake.  We  were  in  a  sheltered 
place  among  mountains ;  it  was  not  an  open  joyous  bay, 
with  a  cheerful  populous  village,  like  Luss ;  but  a  pastoral 
and  retired  spot,  with  a  few  single  dwellings.  The  people 
of  the  inn  stared  at  us  when  we  spoke,  without  giving  us 
an  answer  immediately,  which  we  were  at  first  disposed  to 
attribute  to  coarseness  of  manners,  but  found  afterwards 
that  they  did  not  understand  us  at  once,  Erse  being  the 
language  spoken  in  the  family.  Nothing  but  salt  meat 
and  eggs  for  dinner — no  potatoes  ;  the  house  smelt  strongly 
of  herrings,  which  were  hung  to  dry  over  the  kitchen  fire. 
Walked  in  the  evening  towards  the  head  of  the  lake ;  the 
road  was  steep  over  the  hill,  and  when  we  had  reached  the 
top  of  it  we  had  long  views  up  and  down  the  water. 
Passed  a  troop  of  women  who  were  resting  themselves  by 
the  roadside,  as  if  returning  from  their  day's  labour. 
Amongst  them  was  a  man,  who  had  walked  with  us  a  con- 
siderable way  in  the  morning,  and  told  us  he  was  just 
come  from  America,  where  he  had  been  for  some  years, — 
was  going  to  his  own  home,  and  should  return  to  America. 
He  spoke  of  emigration  as  a  glorious  thing  for  them  who 
had  money.  Poor  fellow!  I  do  not  think  that  he  had 
brought  much  back  with  him,  for  he  had  worked  his  passage 
over :  I  much  suspected  that  a  bundle,  which  he  carried 
upon  a  stick,  tied  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  contained  his 
all.  He  was  almost  blind,  he  said,  as  were  many  of  the 


80  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

crew.  He  intended  crossing  the  lake  at  the  ferry  ;  but  it 
was  stormy,  and  he  thought  he  should  not  be  able  to  get 
over  that  day.  I  could  not  help  smiling  when  I  saw  him 
lying  by  the  roadside  with  such  a  company  about  him,  not 
like  a  wayfaring  man,  but  seeming  as  much  at  home  and 
at  his  ease  as  if  he  had  just  stepped  out  of  his  hut  among 
them,  and  they  had  been  neighbours  all  their  lives.9  Passed 
one  pretty  house,  a  large  thatched  dwelling  with  out-houses, 
but  the  prospect  above  and  below  was  solitary. 

The  sun  had  long  been  set  before  we  returned  to  the 
inn.  As  travellers,  we  were  glad  to  see  the  moon  over  the 
top  of  one  of  the  hills,  but  it  was  a  cloudy  night,  without 
any  peculiar  beauty  or  solemnity.  After  tea  we  made  in- 
quiries respecting  the  best  way  to  go  to  Loch  Ketterine  ; 
the  landlord  could  give  but  little  information,  and  nobody 
seemed  to  know  anything  distinctly  of  the  place,  though  it 
was  but  ten  miles  off.  We  applied  to  the  maid-servant 
who  waited  on  us :  she  was  a  fine-looking  young  woman, 
dressed  in  a  white  bed-gown,  her  hair  fastened  up  by  a 
comb,  and  without  shoes  and  stockings.  When  we  asked 
her  about  the  Trossachs  she  could  give  us  no  information, 
but  on  our  saying,  'Do  you  know  Loch  Ketterine]'  she 
answered  with  a  smile,  '  I  should  know  that  loch,  for  I  was 
bred  and  born  there.'  After  much  difficulty  we  learned 
from  her  that  the  Trossachs  were  at  the  foot  of  the  lake, 
and  that  by  the  way  we  were  to  go  we  should  come  upon 
them  at  the  head,  should  have  to  travel  ten  miles  to  the 
foot*  of  the  water,  and  that  there  was  no  inn  by  the  way. 
The  girl  spoke  English  very  distinctly  ;  but  she  had  few 

*  This  distinction  between  the  foot  and  head  is  not  very  clear.  What  is 
meant  is  this  :  They  would  have  to  travel  the  whole  length  of  the  lake, 
from  the  west  to  the  east  end  of  it,  before  they  came  to  the  Trossachs,  the 
pass  leading  away  from  the  east  end  of  the  lake.  —  Ed. 


A  TO  UK  IN  SCOTLAND.  81 

words,  and  found  it  difficult  to  understand  us.  She  did 
not  much  encourage  us  to  go,  because  the  roads  were  bad, 
and  it  was  a  long  way,  'and  there  was  no  putting-up 
for  the  like  of  us.'  We  determined,  however,  to  venture, 
and  throw  ourselves  upon  the  hospitality  of  some  cottager 
or  gentleman.  We  desired  the  landlady  to  roast  us  a 
couple  of  fowls  to  carry  with  us.  There  are  always  plenty 
of  fowls  at  the  doors  of  a  Scotch  inn,  and  eggs  are  as 
regularly  brought  to  table  at  breakfast  as  bread  and 
butter. 

Friday,  August  2Qth. — We  did  not  set  off  till  between 
ten  and  eleven  o'clock,  much  too  late  for  a  long  day's  journey. 
Our  boatman  lived  at  the  pretty  white  house  which  we  saw 
from  the  windows  :  we  called  at  his  door  by  the  way,  and, 
even  when  we  were  near  the  house,  the  outside  looked 
comfortable ;  but  within  I  never  saw  anything  so  miserable 
from  dirt,  and  dirt  alone  :  it  reminded  one  of  the  house  of 
a  decayed  weaver  in  the  suburbs  of  a  large  town,  with  a 
sickly  wife  and  a  large  family ;  but  William  says  it  was 
far  worse,  that  it  was  quite  Hottentotish. 

After  long  waiting,  and  many  clumsy  preparations,  we 
got  ourselves  seated  in  the  boat ;  but  we  had  not  floated 
five  yards  before  we  perceived  that  if  any  of  the  party — and 
there  was  a  little  Highland  woman  who  was  going  over  the 
water  with  us,  the  boatman,  his  helper,  and  ourselves — 
should  stir  but  a  few  inches,  leaning  to  one  side  or  the 
other,  the  boat  would  be  full  in  an  instant,  and  we  at  the 
bottom  ;  besides,  it  was  very  leaky,  and  the  woman  was 
employed  to  lade  out  the  water  continually.  It  appeared 
that  this  crazy  vessel  was  not  the  man's  own,  and  that  his 
was  lying  in  a  bay  at  a  little  distance.  He  said  he  would 

F 


82  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

take  us  to  it  as  fast  as  possible,  but  I  was  so  much  fright- 
ened I  would  gladly  have  given  up  the  whole  day's 
journey ;  indeed  not  one  of  us  would  have  attempted  to 
cross  the  lake  in  that  boat  for  a  thousand  pounds.  We 
reached  the  larger  boat  in  safety  after  coasting  a  consider- 
able way  near  the  shore,  but  just  as  we  were  landing, 
William  dropped  the  bundle  which  contained  our  food  into 
the  water.  The  fowls  were  no  worse,  but  some  sugar, 
ground  coffee,  and  pepper-cake  seemed  to  be  entirely 
spoiled.  We  gathered  together  as  much  of  the  coffee  and 
sugar  as  we  could  and  tied  it  up,  and  again  trusted  our- 
selves to  the  lake.  The  sun  shone,  and  the  air  was  calm 
— luckily  it  had  been  so  while  we  were  in  the  crazy  boat 
— we  had  rocks  and  woods  on  each  side  of  us,  or  bare  hills ; 
seldom  a  single  cottage,  and  there  was  no  rememberable 
place  till  we  came  opposite  to  a  waterfall  of  no  inconsider- 
able size,  that  appeared  to  drop  directly  into  the  lake  : 
close  to  it  was  a  hut,  which  we  were  told  was  the  ferry- 
house.  On  the  other  side  of  the  lake  was  a  pretty  farm 
under  the  mountains,  beside  a  river,  the  cultivated  grounds 
lying  all  together,  and  sloping  towards  the  lake  from  the 
mountain  hollow  down  which  the  river  came.  It  is  not 
easy  to  conceive  how  beautiful  these  spots  appeared  after 
moving  on  so  long  between  the  solitary  steeps. 

We  went  a  considerable  way  further,  and  landed  at  Rob 
Roy's  Caves,  which  are  in  fact  no  caves,  but  some  fine 
rocks  on  the  brink  of  the  lake,  in  the  crevices  of  which  a 
man  might  bide  himself  cunningly  enough ;  the  water  is 
very  deep  below  them,  and  the  hills  above  steep  and 
covered  with  wood.  The  little  Highland  woman,  who  was 
in  size  about  a  match  for  our  guide  at  Lanerk,  accompanied 
us  hither.  There  was  something  very  gracious  in  the 


A  TO  UK  IN  SCOTLAND.  83 

manners  of  this  woman;  she  could  scarcely  speak  five 
English  words,  yet  she  gave  me,  whenever  I  spoke  to  her, 
as  many  intelligible  smiles  as  I  had  needed  English  words 
to  answer  me,  and  helped  me  over  the  rocks  in  the  most 
obliging  manner.  She  had  left  the  boat  out  of  good-will 
to  us,  or  for  her  own  amusement.  She  had  never  seen 
these  caves  before ;  but  no  doubt  had  heard  of  them,  the 
tales  of  Rob  Roy's  exploits  being  told  familiarly  round  the 
1  ingles '  hereabouts,  for  this  neighbourhood  was  his  home. 
We  landed  at  Inversneyde,  the  ferry-house  by  the  water- 
fall, and  were  not  sorry  to  part  with  our  boatman,  who 
was  a  coarse  hard-featured  man,  and,  speaking  of  the  French, 
uttered  the  basest  and  most  cowardly  sentiments.  His 
helper,  a  youth  fresh  from  the  Isle  of  Skye,  was  innocent 
of  this  fault,  and  though  but  a  bad  rower,  was  a  far  better 
companion ;  he  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English,  and  sang 
a  plaintive  Gaelic  air  in  a  low  tone  while  he  plied  his  oar. 
The  ferry-house  stood  on  the  bank  a  few  yards  above  the 
landing-place  where  the  boat  lies.  It  is  a  small  hut  under 
a  steep  wood,  and  a  few  yards  to  the  right,  looking  towards 
the  hut,  is  the  waterfall.  The  fall  is  not  very  high,  but 
the  stream  is  considerable,  as  we  could  see  by  the  large 
black  stones  that  were  lying  bare,  but  the  rains,  if  they 
had  reached  this  place,  had  had  little  effect  upon  the  water- 
fall ;  its  noise  was  not  so  great  as  to  form  a  contrast  with 
the  stillness  of  the  bay  into  which  it  falls,  where  the  boat,  and 
house,  and  waterfall  itself  seemed  all  sheltered  and  protected. 
The  Highland  woman  was  to  go  with  us  the  two  first  miles 
of  our  journey.  She  led  us  along  a  bye  foot-path  a  shorter 
way  up  the  hill  from  the  ferry-house.  There  is  a  consi- 
derable settling  in  the  hills  that  border  Loch  Lomond,  at 
the  passage  by  which  we  were  to  cross  to  Loch  Ketterine ; 


84  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Ben  Lomond,  terminating  near  the  ferry-house,  is  on  the 
same  side  of  the  water  with  it,  and  about  three  miles 
above  Tarbet. 

We  had  to  climb  right  up  the  hill,  which  is  very  steep, 
and,  when  close  under  it,  seemed  to  be  high,  but  we  soon 
reached  the  top,  and  when  we  were  there  had  lost  sight  of  the 
lake ;  and  now  our  road  was  over  a  moor,  or  rather  through 
a  wide  moorland  hollow.  Having  gone  a  little  way,  we 
saw  before  us,  at  the  distance  of  about  half  a  mile,  a  very 
large  stone  building,  a  singular  structure,  with  a  high  wall 
round  it,  naked  hill  above,  and  neither  field  nor  tree  near ; 
but  the  moor  was  not  overgrown  with  heath  merely,  but 
grey  grass,  such  as  cattle  might  pasture  upon.  We  could 
not  conjecture  what  this  building  was ;  it  appeared  as  if  it 
had  been  built  strong  to  defend  it  from  storms ;  but  for 
what  purpose  1  William  called  out  to  us  that  we  should 
observe  that  place  well,  for  it  was  exactly  like  one  of  the 
spittals  of  the  Alps,  built  for  the  reception  of  travellers, 
and  indeed  I  had  thought  it  must  be  so  before  he  spoke. 
This  building,  from  its  singular  structure  and  appearance, 
made  the  place,  which  is  itself  in  a  country  like  Scotland 
nowise  remarkable,  take  a  character  of  unusual  wildness 
and  desolation — this  when  we  first  came  in  view  of  it ;  and 
afterwards,  when  we  had  passed  it  and  looked  back,  three 
pyramidal  mountains  on  the  opposite  side  of  Loch  Lomond 
terminated  the  view,  which  under  certain  accidents  of 
weather  must  be  very  grand.  Our  Highland  companion 
had  not  English  enough  to  give  us  any  information  con- 
cerning this  strange  building ;  we  could  only  get  from  her 
that  it  was  a  '  large  house,'  which  was  plain  enough. 

We  walked  about  a  mile  and  a  half  over  the  moor  with- 
out seeing  any  other  dwelling  but  one  hut  by  the  burn-side, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  85 

with  a  peat-stack  and  a  ten-yards'-square  enclosure  for 
potatoes ;  then  we  came  to  several  clusters  of  houses,  even 
hamlets  they  might  be  called,  but  where  there  is  any  land 
belonging  to  the  Highland  huts  there  are  so  many  out- 
buildings near,  which  differ  in  no  respect  from  the  dwelling- 
houses  except  that  they  send  out  no  smoke,  that  one  house 
looks  like  two  or  three.  Near  these  houses  was  a  consi- 
derable quantity  of  cultivated  ground,  potatoes  and  corn, 
and  the  people  were  busy  making  hay  in  the  hollow  places 
of  the  open  vale,  and  all  along  the  sides  of  the  becks.  It 
was  a  pretty  sight  altogether — men  and  women,  dogs,  the 
little  running  streams,  with  linen  bleaching  near  them,  and 
cheerful  sunny  hills  and  rocks  on  every  side.  We  passed 
by  one  patch  of  potatoes  that  a  florist  might  have 
been  proud  of;  no  carnation-bed  ever  looked  more  gay 
than  this  square  plot  of  ground  on  the  waste  common. 
The  flowers  were  in  very  large  bunches,  and  of  an  extra- 
ordinary size,  and  of  every  conceivable  shade  of  colouring 
from  snow-white  to  deep  purple.  It  was  pleasing  in  that 
place,  where  perhaps  was  never  yet  a  flower  cultivated  by 
man  for  his  own  pleasure,  to  see  these  blossoms  grow  more 
gladly  than  elsewhere,  making  a  summer  garden  near  the 
mountain  dwellings. 

At  one  of  the  clusters  of  houses  we  parted  with  our 
companion,  who  had  insisted  on  bearing  my  bundle  while 
she  stayed  with  us.  I  often  tried  to  enter  into  conversa- 
tion with  her,  and  seeing  a  small  tarn  before  us,  was  re- 
minded of  the  pleasure  of  fishing  and  the  manner  of  living 
there,  and  asked  her  what  sort  of  food  was  eaten  in  that 
place,  if  they  lived  much  upon  fish,  or  had  mutton  from  the 
hills ;  she  looked  earnestly  at  me,  and  shaking  her  head, 
replied,  '  Oh  yes !  eat  fish — no  papistes,  eat  everything.' 


86  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

The  tarn  had  one  small  island  covered  with  wood;  the 
stream  that  runs  from  it  falls  into  Loch  Ketterine,  which, 
after  we  had  gone  a  little  beyond  the  tarn,  we  saw  at  some 
distance  before  us. 

Pursued  the  road,  a  mountain  horse-track,  till  we  came 
to  a  corner  of  what  seemed  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  there 
sate  down  completely  tired,  and  hopeless  as  to  the  rest  of 
our  journey.  The  road  ended  at  the  shore,  and  no  houses 
were  to  be  seen  on  the  opposite  side  except  a  few  widely 
parted  huts,  and  on  the  near  side  was  a  trackless  heath. 
The  land  at  the  head  of  the  lake  was  but  a  continuation  of 
the  common  we  had  come  along,  and  was  covered  with 
heather,  intersected  by  a  few  straggling  foot-paths. 

Coleridge  and  I  were  faint  with  hunger,  and  could  go  no 
further  till  we  had  refreshed  ourselves,  so  we  ate  up  one  of 
our  fowls,  and  drank  of  the  water  of  Loch  Ketterine ;  but 
William  could  not  be  easy  till  he  had  examined  the  coast, 
so  he  left  us,  and  made  his  way  along  the  moor  across  the 
head  of  the  lake.  Coleridge  and  I,  as  we  sate,  had  what 
seemed  to  us  but  a  dreary  prospect — a  waste  of  unknown 
ground  which  we  guessed  we  must  travel  over  before  it  was 
possible  for  us  to  find  a  shelter.  We  saw  a  long  way  down 
the  lake ;  it  was  all  moor  on  the  near  side ;  on  the  other 
the  hills  were  steep  from  the  water,  and  there  were  large 
coppice-woods,  but  no  cheerful  green  fields,  and  no  road 
that  we  could  see ;  we  knew,  however,  that  there  must  be 
a  road  from  house  to  house  ;  but  the  whole  lake  appeared 
a  solitude — neither  boats,  islands,  nor  houses,  no  grandeur 
in  the  hills,  nor  any  loveliness  in  the  shores.  When  we 
first  came  in  view  of  it  we  had  said  it  was  like  a  barren  Ills- 
water — Ulswater  dismantled  of  its  grandeur,  and  cropped 
of  its  lesser  beauties.  When  I  had  swallowed  my  dinner 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  87 

I  hastened  after  William,  and  Coleridge  followed  me. 
Walked  through  the  heather  with  some  labour  for  perhaps 
half  a  mile,  and  found  William  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  small 
eminence,  whence  we  saw  the  real  head  of  the  lake,  which 
•was  pushed  up  into  the  vale  a  considerable  way  beyond  the 
promontory  where  we  now  sate.  The  view  up  the  lake 
was  very  pleasing,  resembling  Thirlemere  below  Armath. 
There  were  rocky  promontories  and  woody  islands,  and, 
what  was  most  cheering  to  us,  a  neat  white  house  on  the 
opposite  shore ;  but  we  could  see  no  boats,  so,  in  order  to 
get  to  it  we  should  be  obliged  to  go  round  the  head  of  the 
lake,  a  long  and  weary  way. 

After  Coleridge  came  up  to  us,  while  we  were  debating 
whether  we  should  turn  back  or  go  forward,  we  espied  a 
man  on  horseback  at  a  little  distance,  with  a  boy  following 
him  on  foot,  no  doubt  a  welcome  sight,  and  we  hailed  him. 
We  should  have  been  glad  to  have  seen  either  man,  woman, 
or  child  at  this  time,  but  there  was  something  uncommon 
and  interesting  in  this  man's  appearance,  which  would  have 
fixed  our  attention  wherever  we  had  met  him.  He  was  a 
complete  Highlander  in  dress,  figure,  and  face,  and  a  very 
fine-looking  man,  hardy  and  vigorous,  though  past  his  prime. 
While  he  stood  waiting  for  us  in  his  bonnet  and  plaid, 
which  never  look  more  graceful  than  on  horseback,  I  forgot 
our  errand,  and  only  felt  glad  that  we  were  in  the  High- 
lands. William  accosted  him  with,  '  Sir,  do  you  speak 
English V  He  replied,  'A  little.'  He  spoke  however, 
sufficiently  well  for  our  purpose,  and  very  distinctly,  as  all 
the  Highlanders  do  who  learn  English  as  a  foreign  language; 
but  in  a  long  conversation  they  want  words ;  he  informed 
us  that  he  himself  was  going  beyond  the  Trossachs,  to 
Callander,  that  no  boats  were  kept  to  'let;'  but  there  were 


88  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

two  gentlemen's  houses  at  this  end  of  the  lake,  one  of  which 
we  could  not  yet  see,  it  being  hidden  from  us  by  a  part  of 
the  hill  on  which  we  stood.  The  other  house  was  that 
which  we  saw  opposite  to  us;  both  the  gentlemen  kept 
boats,  and  probably  might  be  able  to  spare  one  of  their 
servants  to  go  with  us.  After  we  had  asked  many 
questions,  which  the  Highlander  answered  with  patience 
and  courtesy,  he  parted  from  us,  going  along  a  sort  of  horse- 
track,  which  a  foot-passenger,  if  he  once  get  into  it,  need 
not  lose  if  he  be  careful. 

When  he  was  gone  we  again  debated  whether  we  should 
go  back  to  Tarbet,  or  throw  ourselves  upon  the  mercy  of 
one  of  the  two  gentlemen  for  a  night's  lodging.  What  we 
had  seen  of  the  main  body  of  the  lake  made  us  little  desire 
to  see  more  of  it ;  the  Highlander  upon  the  naked  heath, 
in  his  Highland  dress,  upon  his  careful-going  horse,  with 
the  boy  following  him,  was  worth  it  all ;  but  after  a  little 
while  we  resolved  to  go  on,  ashamed  to  shrink  from  an 
adventure.  Pursued  the  horse-track,  and  soon  came  in 
sight  of  the  other  gentleman's  house,  which  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  vale,  a  little  above  the  lake.  It  was  a 
white  house ;  no  trees  near  it  except  a  new  plantation  of 
firs ;  but  the  fields  were  green,  sprinkled  over  with  hay- 
cocks, and  the  brook  which  comes  down  the  valley  and  falls 
into  the  lake  ran  through  them.  It  was  like  a  new-made 
farm  in  a  mountain  vale,  and  yet  very  pleasing  after  the 
depressing  prospect  which  had  been  before  us. 

Our  road  was  rough,  and  not  easy  to  be  kept.  It  was 
between  five  and  six  o'clock  when  we  reached  the  brook 
side,  where  Coleridge  and  I  stopped,  and  William  went  up 
towards  the  house,  which  was  in  a  field,  where  about  half  a 
dozen  people  were  at  work.  He  addressed  himself  to  one 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  89 

who  appeared  like  the  master,  and  all  drew  near  him,  staring 
at  William  as  nobody  could  have  stared  but  out  of  sheer 
rudeness,  except  in  such  a  lonely  place.  He  told  his  tale, 
and  inquired  about  boats ;  there  were  no  boats,  and  no  lodg- 
ing nearer  than  Callander,  ten  miles  beyond  the  foot  of  the 
lake.  A  laugh  was  on  every  face  when  William  said  we 
were  come  to  see  the  Trossachs ;  no  doubt  they  thought 
we  had  better  have  stayed  at  our  own  homes.  William 
endeavoured  to  make  it  appear  not  so  very  foolish,  by  in- 
forming them  that  it  was  a  place  much  celebrated  in  Eng- 
land, though  perhaps  little  thought  of  by  them,  and  that  we 
only  differed  from  many  of  our  countrymen  in  having  come 
the  wrong  way  in  consequence  of  an  erroneous  direction. 

After  a  little  time  the  gentleman  said  we  should  be 
accommodated  with  such  beds  as  they  had,  and  should  be 
welcome  to  rest  in  their  house  if  we  pleased.  William  came 
back  for  Coleridge  and  me;  the  men  all  stood  at  the  door 
to  receive  us,  and  now  their  behaviour  was  perfectly 
courteous.  We  were  conducted  into  the  house  by  the  same 
man  who  had  directed  us  hither  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake,  and  afterwards  we  learned  that  he  was  the  father  of 
our  hostess.  He  showed  us  into  a  room  up-stairs,  begged 
we  would  sit  at  our  ease,  walk  out,  or  do  just  as  we  pleased. 
It  was  a  large  square  deal  wainscoted  room,  the  wains- 
cot black  with  age,  yet  had  never  been  painted  :  it  did 
not  look  like  an  English  room,  and  yet  I  do  not  know  in 
what  it  differed,  except  that  in  England  it  is  not  common 
to  see  so  large  and  well-built  a  room  so  ill-furnished  :  there 
were  two  or  three  large  tables,  and  a  few  old  chairs  of 
different  sorts,  as  if  they  had  been  picked  up  one  did  not 
know  how,  at  sales,  or  had  belonged  to  different  rooms  of 
the  house  ever  since  it  was  built.  We  sat  perhaps  three- 


90  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

quarters  of  an  hour,  and  I  was  about  to  carry  down  our  wet 
coffee  and  sugar  and  ask  leave  to  boil  it,  when  the  mistress 
of  the  house  entered,  a  tall  fine-looking  woman,  neatly 
dressed  in  a  dark-coloured  gown,  with  a  white  handkerchief 
tied  round  her  head ;  she  spoke  to  us  in  a  very  pleasing 
manner,  begging  permission  to  make  tea  for  us,  an  offer 
which  we  thankfully  accepted.  Encouraged  by  the  sweet- 
ness of  her  manners,  I  went  down-stairs  to  dry  my  feet  by 
the  kitchen  fire;  she  lent  me  a  pair  of  stockings,  and 
behaved  to  me  with  the  utmost  attention  and  kindness. 
She  carried  the  tea-things  into  the  room  herself,  leaving 
me  to  make  tea,  and  set  before  us  cheese  and  butter  and 
barley  cakes.  These  cakes  are  as  thin  as  our  oat-bread, 
but,  instead  of  being  crisp,  are  soft  and  leathery,  yet  we, 
being  hungry,  and  the  butter  delicious,  ate  them  with  great 
pleasure,  but  when  the  same,  bread  was  set  before  us 
afterwards  we  did  not  like  it. 

After  tea  William  and  I  walked  out;  we  amused  our- 
selves with  watching  the  Highlanders  at  work  :  they  went 
leisurely  about  everything,  and  whatever  was  to  be  done, 
all  followed,  old  men,  and  young,  and  little  children. 
We  were  driven  into  the  house  by  a  shower,  which  came 
on  with  the  evening  darkness,  and  the  people  leaving 
their  work  paused  at  the  same  time.  I  was  pleased  to 
see  them  a  while  after  sitting  round  a  blazing  fire  in 
the  kitchen,  father  and  son-in-law,  master  and  man,  and 
the  mother  with  her  little  child  on  her  knee.  When  I 
had  been  there  before  tea  I  had  observed  what  a  contrast 
there  was  between  the  mistress  and  her  kitchen ;  she  did 
not  differ  in  appearance  from  an  English  country  lady ;  but 
her  kitchen,  roof,  walls,  and  floor  of  mud,  was  all  black 
alike ;  yet  now,  with  the  light  of  a  bright  fire  upon  so 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  91 

many  happy  countenances,  the  whole  room  made  a  pretty 
sight. 

We  heard  the  company  laughing  and  talking  long  after 
we  were  in  bed  ;  indeed  I  believe  they  never  work  till  they 
are  tired.  The  children  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English : 
they  were  very  shy  at  first ;  but  after  I  had  caressed  the 
eldest,  and  given  her  a  red  leather  purse,  with  which  she 
was  delighted,  she  took  hold  of  my  hand  and  hung  about 
me,  changing  her  side-long  looks  for  pretty  smiles.  Her 
mother  lamented  they  were  so  far  from  school,  they  should 
be  obliged  to  send  the  children  down  into  the  Lowlands  to 
be  taught  reading  and  English.  Callander,  the  nearest 
town,  was  twenty  miles  from  them,  and  it  was  only  a  small 
place  :  they  had  their  groceries  from  Glasgow.  She  said 
that  at  Callander  was  their  nearest  church,  but  sometimes 
'  got  a  preaching  at  the  Garrison.'  In  explaining  herself  she 
informed  us  that  the  large  building  which  had  puzzled  us 
in  the  morning  had  been  built  by  Government,  at  the 
request  of  one  of  the  Dukes  of  Montrose,  for  the  defence  of 
his  domains  against  the  attacks  of  Rob  Roy.  I  will  not 
answer  for  the  truth  of  this ;  perhaps  it  might  have  been 
built  for  this  purpose,  and  as  a  check  on  the  Highlands  in 
general ;  certain  it  is,  however,  that  it  was  a  garrison ; 
soldiers  used  to  be  constantly  stationed  there,  and  have 
only  been  withdrawn  within  the  last  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years.  Mrs.  Macfarlane  attended  me  to  my  room ;  she  said 
she  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  sleep  upon  blankets,  and  said 
they  were  '  fresh  from  the  fauld.' 

Saturday,  August  21th. — Before  I  rose,  Mrs.  Macfarlane 
came  into  my  room  to  see  if  I  wanted  anything,  and  told 
me  she  should  send  the  servant  up  with  a  basin  of  whey, 


92  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

saying,  'We  make  very  good  whey  in  this  country ;'  indeed, 
I  thought  it  the  best  I  had  ever  tasted ;  but  I  cannot  tell 
how  this  should  be,  for  they  only  make  skimmed-milk 
cheeses.  I  asked  her  for  a  little  bread  and  milk  for  our 
breakfast,  but  she  said  it  would  be  no  trouble  to  make  tea, 
as  she  must  make  it  for  the  family ;  so  we  all  breakfasted 
together.  The  cheese  was  set  out,  as  before,  with  plenty 
of  butter  and  barley-cakes,  and  fresh  baked  oaten  cakes, 
which,  no  doubt,  were  made  for  us  :  they  had  been  kneaded 
with  cream,  and  were  excellent.  All  the  party  pressed  us 
to  eat,  and  were  very  jocose  about  the  necessity  of  helping 
out  their  coarse  bread  with  butter,  and  they  themselves 
ate  almost  as  much  butter  as  bread.  In  talking  of  the 
French  and  the  present  times,  their  language  was  what 
most  people  would  call  Jacobinical.  They  spoke  much  of 
the  oppressions  endured  by  the  Highlanders  further  up,  of 
the  absolute  impossibility  of  their  living  in  any  comfort, 
and  of  the  cruelty  of  laying  so  many  restraints  on  emigra- 
tion. Then  they  spoke  with  animation  of  the  attachment 
of  the  clans  to  their  lairds  :  '  The  laird  of  this  place,  Glen- 
gyle,  where  we  live,  could  have  commanded  so  many  men 
who  would  have  followed  him  to  the  death ;  and  now 
there  are  none  left.'  It  appeared  that  Mr.  Macfarlane, 
and  his  wife's  brother,  Mr.  Macalpine,  farmed  the  place, 
inclusive  of  the  whole  vale  upwards  to  the  mountains,  and 
the  mountains  themselves,  under  the  lady  of  Glengyle,  the 
mother  of  the  young  laird,  a  minor.  It  was  a  sheep-farm. 
Speaking  of  another  neighbouring  laird,  they  said  he  had 
gone,  like  the  rest  of  them,  to  Edinburgh,  left  his  lands 
and  his  own  people,  spending  his  money  where  it  brought 
him  not  any  esteem,  so  that  he  was  of  no  value  either  at 
home  or  abroad.  We  mentioned  Kob  Roy,  and  the  eyes 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  93 

of  all  glistened ;  even  the  lady  of  the  house,  who  was  very 
diffident,  and  no  great  talker,  exclaimed,  '  He  was  a  good 
man,  Rob  Roy !  he  had  been  dead  only  about  eighty  years, 
had  lived  in  the  next  farm,  which  belonged  to  him,  and 
there  his  bones  were  laid.'*  He  was  a  famous  swordsman. 
Having  an  arm  much  longer  than  other  men,  he  had  a 
greater  command  with  his  sword.  As  a  proof  of  the  length 
of  his  arm,  they  told  us  that  he  could  garter  his  tartan 
stockings  below  the  knee  without  stooping,  and  added  a 
dozen  different  stories  of  single  combats,  which  he  had 
fought,  all  in  perfect  good-humour,  merely  to  prove  his 
prowess.  I  daresay  they  had  stories  of  this  kind  which 
would  hardly  have  been  exhausted  in  the  long  evenings  of 
a  whole  December  week,  Rob  Roy  being  as  famous  here  as 
ever  Robin  Hood  was  in  the  Forest  of  Sherwood ;  lie,  also 
robbed  from  the  rich,  giving  to  the  poor,  and  defending 
them  from  oppression.  They  tell  of  his  confining  the 
factor  of  the  Duke  of  Montrose  in  one  of  the  islands  of 
Loch  Ketterine,  after  having  taken  his  money  from  him — 
the  Duke's  rents — in  open  day,  while  they  were  sitting  at 
table.  He  was  a  formidable  enemy  of  the  Duke,  but 
being  a  small  laird  against  a  greater,  was  overcome  at  last, 
and  forced  to  resign  all  his  lands  on  the  Braes  of  Loch 
Lomond,  including  the  caves  which  we  visited,  on  account 
of  the  money  he  had  taken  from  the  Duke  and  could  not 
repay. 

*  There  is  a  mistake  here.  His  bones  were  laid  about  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  from  thence,  in  Balquhidder  kirkyard.  But  it  was  under 
the  belief  that  his  '  grave  is  near  the  head  of  Loch  Ketterine,  in  one  of 
those  pinfold-like  burial  grounds,  of  neglected  and  desolate  appearance, 
which  the  traveller  meets  with  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,'  that  the  well- 
known  poem  on  '  Rob  Roy's  Grave'  was  composed.  See  Note  14  at  the 
end  of  volume. — Ed. 


94  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

When  breakfast  was  ended  the  mistress  desired  the  per- 
son whom  we  took  to  be  her  husband  to  '  return  thanks.' 
He  said  a  short  grace,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  all  went 
off  to  their  work.  We  saw  them  about  the  door  following 
one  another  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  with  the  children  after, 
whatever  job  they  were  engaged  in.  Mrs.  Macfarlane  told 
me  she  would  show  me  the  burying-place  of  the  lairds  of 
Glengyle,  and  took  me  to  a  square  enclosure  like  a  pinfold, 
with  a  stone  ball  at  every  corner ;  we  had  noticed  it  the 
evening  before,  and  wondered  what  it  could  be.  It  was  in 
the  middle  of  a  '  planting,'  as  they  call  plantations,  which 
was  enclosed  for  the  preservation  of  the  trees,  therefore  we 
had  to  climb  over  a  high  wall :  it  was  a  dismal  spot,  con- 
taining four  or  five  graves  overgrown  with  long  grass, 
nettles,  and  brambles.  Against  the  wall  was  a  marble 
monument  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the  lairds,  of  whom 
they  spoke  with  veneration  :  some  English  verses  were 
Inscribed  upon  the  marble,  purporting  that  he  had  been 
the  father  of  his  clan,  a  brave  and  good  man.  When  we 
returned  to  the  house  she  said  she  would  show  me  what 
curious  feathers  they  had  in  their  country,  and  brought  out 
a  bunch  carefully  wrapped  up  in  paper.  On  my  asking  her 
what  bird  they  came  from,  *  Oh ! '  she  replied,  '  it  is  a  great 
beast.'  We  conjectured  it  was  an  eagle,  and  from  her  de- 
scription of  its  ways,  and  the  manner  of  destroying  it,  we 
knew  it  was  so.  She  begged  me  to  accept  of  some  of  the 
feathers,  telling  me  that  some  ladies  wore  them  in  their 
heads.  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  gift,  which  I  shall 
preserve  in  memory  of  her  kindness  and  simplicity  of  man- 
ners, and  the  Highland  solitude  where  she  lived. 

We  took  leave  of  the  family  with  regret :  they  were 
handsome,  healthy,  and  happy-looking  people.  It  was  ten 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  95 

o'clock  when  we  departed.  "We  had  learned  that  there  was 
a  ferry-boat  kept  at  three  miles'  distance,  and  if  the  man 
was  at  home  he  would  row  us  down  the  lake  to  the  Trossachs. 
Our  walk  was  mostly  through  coppice-woods,  along  a  horse- 
road,  upon  which  narrow  carts  might  travel.  Passed  that 
white  house  which  had  looked  at  us  with  such  a  friendly 
face  when  we  were  on  the  other  side  ;  it  stood  on  the  slope 
of  a  hill,  with  green  pastures  below  it,  plots  of  corn  and 
coppice-wood,  and  behind,  a  rocky  steep  covered  with  wood. 
It  was  a  very  pretty  place,  but  the  morning  being  cold  and 
dull  the  opposite  shore  appeared  dreary.  Near  to  the  white 
house  we  passed  by  another  of  those  little  pinfold  squares, 
which  we  knew  to  be  a  burying-place ;  it  was  in  a  sloping 
green  field  among  woods,  and  within  sound  of  the  beating 
of  the  water  against  the  shore,  if  there  were  but  a  gentle 
breeze  to  stir  it :  I  thought  if  I  lived  in  that  house,  and 
my  ancestors  and  kindred  were  buried  there,  I  should  sit 
many  an  hour  under  the  walls  of  this  plot  of  earth,  where 
all  the  household  would  be  gathered  together. 

We  found  the  ferryman  at  work  in  the  field  above  his 
hut,  and  he  was  at  liberty  to  go  with  us,  but,  being  wet 
and  hungry,  we  begged  that  he  would  let  us  sit  by  his  fire 
till  we  had  refreshed  ourselves.  This  was  the  first  genuine 
Highland  hut  we  had  been  in.  We  entered  by  the  cow- 
house, the  house-door  being  within,  at  right  angles  to  the 
outer  door.  The  woman  was  distressed  that  she  had  a  bad 
fire,  but  she  heaped  up  some  dry  peats  and  heather,  and, 
blowing  it  with  her  breath,  in  a  short  time  raised  a  blaze 
that  scorched  us  into  comfortable  feelings.  A  small  part 
of  the  smoke  found  its  way  out  of  the  hole  of  the  chimney, 
the  rest  through  the  open  window-places,  one  of  which 
was  within  the  recess  of  the  fireplace,  and  made  a  frame 


96  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

to  a  little  picture  of  the  restless  lake  and  the  opposite  shore, 
seen  when  the  outer  door  was  open.  The  woman  of  the 
house  was  very  kind  :  whenever  we  asked  her  for  anything 
it  seemed  a  fresh  pleasure  to  her  that  she  had  it  for  us  ; 
she  always  answered  with  a  sort  of  softening  down  of  the 
Scotch  exclamation,  'Hoot !'  '  Ho  !  yes,  ye  '11  get  that,'  and 
hied  to  her  cupboard  in  the  spence.  We  were  amused  with 
the  phrase  '  Ye  '11  get  that '  in  the  Highlands,  which  ap- 
peared to  us  as  if  it  came  from  a  perpetual  feeling  of  the 
difficulty  with  which  most  things  are  procured.  We  got 
oatmeal,  butter,  bread  and  milk,  made  some  porridge,  and 
then  departed.  It  was  rainy  and  cold,  with  a  strong  wind. 

Coleridge  was  afraid  of  the  cold  in  the  boat,  so  he  deter- 
mined to  walk  down  the  lake,  pursuing  the  same  road  we 
had  come  along.  There  was  nothing  very  interesting  for 
the  first  three  or  four  miles  on  either  side  of  the  water  : 
to  the  right,  uncultivated  heath  or  poor  coppice-wood,  and 
to  the  left,  a  scattering  of  meadow  ground,  patches  of  corn, 
coppice-woods,  and  here  and  there  a  cottage.  The  wind 
fell,  and  it  began  to  rain  heavily.  On  this  William  wrapped 
himself  in  the  boatman's  plaid,  and  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  boat  till  we  came  to  a  place  where  I  could  not  help 
rousing  him. 

We  were  rowing  down  that  side  of  the  lake  which  had 
hitherto  been  little  else  than  a  moorish  ridge.  After  turn- 
ing a  rocky  point  we  came  to  a  bay  closed  in  by  rocks  and 
steep  woods,  chiefly  of  full-grown  birch.  The  lake  was 
elsewhere  ruffled,  but  at  the  entrance  of  this  bay  the  breezes 
sunk,  and  it  was  calm :  a  small  island  was  near,  and  the 
opposite  shore,  covered  with  wood,  looked  soft  through 
the  misty  rain.  William,  rubbing  his  eyes,  for  he  had 
been  asleep,  called  out  that  he  hoped  I  had  not  let  him 


A   TOUR  AV  SCOTLAND.  97 

pass  by  anything  that  was  so  beautiful  as  this ;  and  I  was 
glad  to  tell  him  that  it  was  but  the  beginning  of  a  new 
land.  After  we  had  left  this  bay  we  saw  before  us  a  long 
reach  of  woods  and  rocks  and  rocky  points,  that  promised 
other  bays  more  beautiful  than  what  we  had  passed.  The 
ferryman  was  a  good-natured  fellow,  and  rowed  very  in- 
dustriously, following  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  shore ;  he 
was  delighted  with  the  pleasure  we  expressed,  continually 
repeating  how  pleasant  it  would  have  been  on  a  fine  day. 
I  believe  he  was  attached  to  the  lake  by  some  sentiment  of 
pride,  as  his  own  domain — his  being  almost  the  only  boat 
upon  it — which  made  him,  seeing  we  were  willing  gazers, 
take  far  more  pains  than  an  ordinary  boatman ;  he  would 
often  say,  after  he  had  compassed  the  turning  of  a  point, 
'  This  is  a  bonny  part,'  and  he  always  chose  the  bonniest, 
with  greater  skill  than  our  prospect-hunters  and  '  pictur- 
esque travellers ; '  places  screened  from  the  winds — that 
was  the  first  point ;  the  rest  followed  of  course, — richer 
growing  trees,  rocks  and  banks,  and  curves  which  the  eye 
delights  in. 

The  second  bay  we  came  to  differed  from  the  rest ;  the 
hills  retired  a  short  space  from  the  lake,  leaving  a  few 
level  fields  between,  on  which  was  a  cottage  embosomed 
in  trees  :  the  bay  was  defended  by  rocks  at  each  end,  and 
the  hills  behind  made  a  shelter  for  the  cottage,  the  only 
dwelling,  I  believe,  except  one,  on  this  side  of  Loch  Ket- 
terine.  We  now  came  to  steeps  that  rose  directly  from 
the  lake,  and  passed  by  a  place  called  in  the  Gaelic  the  Den 
of  the  Ghosts,*  which  reminded  us  of  Lodore;  it  is  a  rock, 
or  mass  of  rock,  with  a  stream  of  large  black  stones  like 
the  naked  or  dried-up  bed  of  a  torrent  down  the  side  of  it ; 
*  Goblins'  Cave. 
G 


98  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

birch-trees  start  out  of  the  rock  in  every  direction,  and 
cover  the  hill  above,  further  than  we  could  see.  The 
water  of  the  lake  below  was  very  deep,  black  and  calm. 
Our  delight  increased  as  we  advanced,  till  we  came  in  view 
of  the  termination  of  the  lake,  seeing  where  the  river 
issues  out  of  it  through  a  narrow  chasm  between  the  hills. 

Here  I  ought  to  rest,  as  we  rested,  and  attempt  to  give 
utterance  to  our  pleasure ;  but  indeed  I  can  impart  but 
little  of  what  we  felt.  We  were  still  on  the  same  side  of 
the  water,  and,  being  immediately  under  the  hill,  within  a 
considerable  bending  of  the  shore,  we  were  enclosed  by 
hills  all  round,  as  if  we  had  been  upon  a  smaller  lake  of 
which  the  whole  was  visible.  It  was  an  entire  solitude ; 
and  all  that  we  beheld  was  the  perfection  of  loveliness  and 
beauty. 

We  had  been  through  many  solitary  places  since  we 
came  into  Scotland,  but  this  place  differed  as  much  from 
any  we  had  seen  before  as  if  there  had  been  nothing 
in  common  between  them :  no  thought  of  dreariness  or 
desolation  found  entrance  here;  yet  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  water,  wood,  rocks,  and  heather,  and  bare  moun- 
tains above.  We  saw  the  mountains  by  glimpses  as  the 
clouds  passed  by  them,  and  were  not  disposed  to  regret, 
with  our  boatman,  that  it  was  not  a  fine  day,  for  the  near 
objects  were  not  concealed  from  us,  but  softened  by  being 
seen  through  the  mists.  The  lake  is  not  very  wide  here, 
but  appeared  to  be  much  narrower  than  it  really  is,  owing 
to  the  many  promontories,  which  are  pushed  so  far  into  it 
that  they  are  much  more  like  islands  than  promontories. 
We  had  a  longing  desire  to  row  to  the  outlet  and  look  up 
into  the  narrow  passage  through  which  the  river  went; 
but  the  point  where  we  were  to  land  was  on  the  other  side, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  99 

so  we  bent  our  course  right  across,  and  just  as  we  came  in 
sight  of  two  huts,  which  have  been  built  by  Lady  Perth  as 
a  shelter  for  those  who  visit  the  Trossachs,  Coleridge  hailed 
us  with  a  shout  of  triumph  from  the  door  of  one  of  them, 
exulting  in  the  glory  of  Scotland.  The  huts  stand  at  a 
small  distance  from  each  other,  on  a  high  and  perpendicular 
rock,  that  rises  from  the  bed  of  the  lake.  A  road,  which 
has  a  very  wild  appearance,  has  been  cut  through  the  rock; 
yet  even  here,  among  these  bold  precipices,  the  feeling  of 
excessive  beautifulness  overcomes  every  other.  While  we 
were  upon  the  lake,  on  every  side  of  us  were  bays  within 
bays,  often  more  like  tiny  lakes  or  pools  than  bays,  and 
these  not  in  long  succession  only,  but  all  round,  some 
almost  on  the  broad  breast  of  the  water,  the  promontories 
shot  out  so  far. 

After  we  had  landed  we  walked  along  the  road  to  the 
uppermost  of  the  huts,  where  Coleridge  was  standing. 
From  the  door  of  this  hut  we  saw  Benvenue  opposite  to 
us — a  high  mountain,  but  clouds  concealed  its  top;  its  side, 
rising  directly  from  the  lake,  is  covered  with  birch-trees  to 
a  great  height,  and  seamed  with  innumerable  channels  of 
torrents ;  but  now  there  was  no  water  in  them,  nothing  to 
break  in  upon  the  stillness  and  repose  of  the  scene;  nor 
do  I  recollect  hearing  the  sound  of  water  from  any  side, 
the  wind  being  fallen  and  the  lake  perfectly  still;  the 
place  was  all  eye,  and  completely  satisfied  the  sense  and 
the  heart.  Above  and  below  us,  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  were  rocks,  knolls,  and  hills,  which,  wherever  any- 
thing could  grow — and  that  was  everywhere  between  the 
rocks — were  covered  with  trees  and  heather;  the  trees  did 
not  in  any  place  grow  so  thick  as  an  ordinary  wood ;  yet 
I  think  there  was  never  a  bare  space  of  twenty  yards:  it 


100  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

was  more  like  a  natural  forest,  where  the  trees  grow  in 
groups  or  singly,  not  hiding  the  surface  of  the  ground, 
which,  instead  of  being  green  and  mossy,  was  of  the  richest 
purple.  The  heather  was  indeed  the  most  luxuriant  I  ever 
saw ;  it  was  so  tall  that  a  child  of  ten  years  old  struggling 
through  it  would  often  have  been  buried  head  and  shoulders, 
and  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  colour,  near  or  at  a  dis- 
tance, seen  under  the  trees,  is  not  to  be  conceived.  But  if 
I  were  to  go  on  describing  for  evermore,  I  should  give  but 
a  faint,  and  very  often  a  false,  idea  of  the  different  objects 
and  the  various  combinations  of  them  in  this  most  intri- 
cate and  delicious  place;  besides,  I  tired  myself  out  with 
describing  at  Loch  Lomond,  so  I  will  hasten  to  the  end  of 
my  tale.  This  reminds  me  of  a  sentence  in  a  little  pam- 
phlet written  by  the  minister  of  Callander,  descriptive  of 
the  environs  of  that  place.  After  having  taken  up  at  least 
six  closely-printed  pages  with  the  Trossachs,  he  concludes 
thus,  'In  a  word,  the  Trossachs  beggar  all  description,'10 — 
a  conclusion  in  which  everybody  who  has  been  there  will 
agree  with  him.  I  believe  the  word  Trossachs  signifies 
'  many  hills ' :  it  is  a  name  given  to  all  the  eminences  at  the 
foot  of  Loch  Ketterine,  and  about  half  a  mile  beyond. 

We  left  the  hut,  retracing  the  few  yards  of  road  which 
we  had  climbed  ;  our  boat  lay  at  anchor  under  the  rock  in 
the  last  of  all  the  compartments  of  the  lake,  a  small  oblong 
pool,  almost  shut  up  within  itself,  as  several  others  had 
appeared  to  be,  by  jutting  points  of  rock.  The  termination 
of  a  long  out-shooting  of  the  water,  pushed  up  between 
the  steps  of  the  main  shore,  where  the  huts  stand,  and  a 
broad  promontory,  which,  with  its  hillocks  and  points 
and  lesser  promontories,  occupies  the  centre  of  the  foot  of 
the  lake.  A  person  sailing  through  the  lake  up  the  middle 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  101 

of  it,  would  just  as  naturally  suppose  that  the  outlet  was 
here  as  on  the  other  side ;  and  so  it  might  have  been,  with 
the  most  trifling  change  in  the  disposition  of  the  ground, 
for  at  the  end  of  this  slip  of  water  the  lake  is  confined 
only  by  a  gentle  rising  of  a  few  yards  towards  an  opening 
between  the  hills,  a  narrow  pass  or  valley  through  which 
the  river  might  have  flowed.  The  road  is  carried  through 
this  valley,  which  only  differs  from  the  lower  part  of  the 
vale  of  the  lake  in  being  excessively  narrow,  and  without 
water;  it  is  enclosed  by  mountains,  rocky  mounds,  hills 
and  hillocks,  scattered  over  with  birch-trees,  and  covered 
with  Dutch  myrtle  u  and  heather,  even  surpassing  what  we 
had  seen  before.  Our  mother  Eve  had  no  fairer,  though  a 
more  diversified  garden,  to  tend,  than  we  found  within  this 
little  close  valley.  It  rained  all  the  time,  but  the  mists 
and  calm  air  made  us  ample  amends  for  a  wetting. 

At  the  opening  of  the  pass  we  climbed  up  a  low  eminence, 
and  had  an  unexpected  prospect  suddenly  be  fore  us — another 
lake,  small  compared  with  Loch  Ketterine,  though  perhaps 
four  miles  long,  but  the  misty  air  concealed  the  end  of  it. 
The  transition  from  the  solitary  wildness  of  Loch  Ket- 
terine and  the  narrow  valley  or  pass  to  this  scene  was  very 
delightful :  it  was  a  gentle  place,  with  lovely  open  bays, 
one  small  island,  corn  fields,  woods,  and  a  group  of  cottages. 
This  vale  seemed  to  have  been  made  to  be  tributary  to 
the  comforts  of  man,  Loch  Ketterine  for  the  lonely  delight 
of  Nature,  and  kind  spirits  delighting  in  beauty.  The  sky 
was  grey  and  heavy, — floating  mists  on  the  hill-sides, 
which  softened  the  objects,  and  where  we  lost  sight  of  the 
lake  it  appeared  so  near  to  the  sky  that  they  almost 
touched  one  another,  giving  a  visionary  beauty  to  the 
prospect.  While  we  overlooked  this  quiet  scene  we  could 


102  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

hear  the  stream  rumbling  among  the  rocks  between  the 
lakes,  but  the  mists  concealed  any  glimpse  of  it  which  we 
might  have  had.  This  small  lake  is  called  Loch  Achray. 

We  returned,  of  course,  by  the  same  road.  Our  guide 
repeated  over  and  over  again  his  lamentations  that  the 
day  was  so  bad,  though  we  had  often  told  him — not  in- 
deed with  much  hope  that  he  would  believe  us — that  we 
were  glad  of  it.  As  we  walked  along  he  pulled  a  leafy 
twig  from  a  birch-tree,  and,  after  smelling  it,  gave  it  to 
me,  saying,  how  '  sweet  and  halesome '  it  was,  and  that 
it  was  pleasant  and  very  halesome  on  a  fine  summer's 
morning  to  sail  under  the  banks  where  the  birks  are 
growing.  This  reminded  me  of  the  old  Scotch  songs,  in 
which  you  continually  hear  of  the  *  pu'ing  the  birks.' 
Common  as  birches  are  in  the  north  of  England,  I  believe 
their  sweet  smell  is  a  thing  unnoticed  among  the  peasants. 
We  returned  again  to  the  huts  to  take  a  farewell  look. 
We  had  shared  our  food  with  the  ferryman  and  a  traveller 
whom  we  had  met  here,  who  was  going  up  the  lake,  and 
wished  to  lodge  at  the  ferry-house,  so  we  offered  him  a 
place  in  the  boat.  Coleridge  chose  to  walk.  We  took  the 
same  side  of  the  lake  as  before,  and  had  much  delight  in 
visiting  the  bays  over  again;  but  the  evening  began  to 
darken,  and  it  rained  so  heavily  before  we  had  gone  two 
miles  that  we  were  completely  wet.  It  was  dark  when  we 
landed,  and  on  entering  the  house  I  was  sick  with  cold. 

The  good  woman  had  provided,  according  to  her  promise, 
a  better  fire  than  we  had  found  in  the  morning  ;  and  indeed 
when  I  sate  down  in  the  chimney-corner  of  her  smoky 
biggin'  I  thought  I  had  never  been  more  comfortable  in  my 
life.  Coleridge  had  been  there  long  enough  to  have  a  pan 
of  coffee  boiling  for  us,  and  having  put  our  clothes  in  the 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  103 

way  of  drying,  we  all  sate  down,  thankful  for  a  shelter. 
We  could  not  prevail  upon  the  man  of  the  house  to  draw 
near  the  fire,  though  he  was  cold  and  wet,  or  to  suffer  his 
wife  to  get  him  dry  clothes  till  she  had  served  us,  which 
she  did,  though  most  willingly,  not  very  expeditiously.  A 
Cumberland  man  of  the  same  rank  would  not  have  had  such  a 
notion  of  what  was  fit  and  right  in  his  own  house,  or  if  he 
had,  one  would  have  accused  him  of  servility ;  but  in  the 
Highlander  it  only  seemed  like  politeness,  however  erroneous 
and  painful  to  us,  naturally  growing  out  of  the  dependence 
of  the  inferiors  of  the  clan  upon  their  laird ;  he  did  not, 
however,  refuse  to  let  his  wife  bring  out  the  whisky-bottle 
at  our  request :  '  She  keeps  a  dram,'  as  the  phrase  is ; 
indeed,  I  believe  there  is  scarcely  a  lonely  house  by  the 
wayside  in  Scotland  where  travellers  may  not  be  accom- 
modated with  a  dram.  We  asked  for  sugar,  butter,  barley- 
bread,  and  milk,  and  with  a  smile  and  a  stare  more  of 
kindness  than  wonder,  she  replied,  '  Ye  '11  get  that,'  bring- 
ing each  article  separately. 

We  caroused  our  cups  of  coffee,  laughing  like  children 
at  the  strange  atmosphere  in  which  we  were  :  the  smoke 
came  in  gusts,  and  spread  along  the  walls  and  above 
our  heads  in  the  chimney,  where  the  hens  were  roosting 
like  light  clouds  in  the  sky.  We  laughed  and  laughed 
again,  in  spite  of  the  smarting  of  our  eyes,  yet  had  a 
quieter  pleasure  in  observing  the  beauty  of  the  beams 
and  rafters  gleaming  between  the  clouds  of  smoke.  They 
had  been  crusted  over  and  varnished  by  many  winters, 
till,  where  the  firelight  fell  upon  them,  they  were  as 
glossy  as  black  rocks  on  a  sunny  day  cased  in  ice.  When 
we  had  eaten  our  supper  we  sat  about  half  an  hour,  and  I 
think  I  had  never  felt  so  deeply  the  blessing  of  a  hospit- 


1(H  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

able  welcome  and  a  warm  fire.  The  man  of  the  house 
repeated  from  time  to  time  that  we  should  often  tell  of 
this  night  when  we  got  to  our  homes,  and  interposed  praises 
of  this,  his  own  lake,  which  he  had  more  than  once,  when  we 
were  returning  in  the  boat,  ventured  to  say  was  '  bonnier 
than  Loch  Lomond.' 

Our  companion  from  the  Trossachs,  who  it  appeared 
was  an  Edinburgh  drawing-master  going  during  the 
vacation  on  a  pedestrian  tour  to  John  o'  Groat's  House, 
was  to  sleep  in  the  barn  with  William  and  Coleridge, 
where  the  man  said  he  had  plenty  of  dry  hay.  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  hay  of  the  Highlands  is  often  very  dry, 
but  this  year  it  had  a  better  chance  than  usual :  wet  or 
dry,  however,  the  next  morning  they  said  they  had  slept 
comfortably.  When  I  went  to  bed,  the  mistress,  desiring 
me  to  '  go  ben,'  attended  me  with  a  candle,  and  assured  me 
that  the  bed  was  dry,  though  not  '  sic  as  I  had  been  used 
to.'  It  was  of  chaff ;  there  were  two  others  in  the  room, 
a  cupboard,  and  two  chests,  on  one  of  which  stood  the 
milk  in  wooden  vessels  covered  over;  I  should  have  thought 
that  milk  so  kept  could  not  have  been  sweet,  but  the  cheese 
and  butter  were  good.  The  walls  of  the  whole  house 
were  of  stone  unplastered.  It  consisted  of  three  apart- 
ments,— the  cow-house  at  one  end,  the  kitchen  or  house  in 
the  middle,  and  the  spence  at  the  other  end.  The  rooms 
were  divided,  not  up  to  the  rigging,  but  only  to  the  be- 
ginning of  the  roof,  so  that  there  was  a  free  passage  for 
light  and  smoke  from  one  end  of  the  house  to  the  other. 

I  went  to  bed  some  time  before  the  family.  The  door  was 
shut  between  us,  and  they  had  a  bright  fire,  which  I  could 
not  see;  but  the  light  it  sent  up  among  the  varnished  rafters 
and  beams,  which  crossed  each  other  in  almost  as  intricate 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  105 

and  fantastic  a  manner  as  I  have  seen  the  under-boughs  of 
a  large  beech-tree  withered  by  the  depth  of  the  shade 
above,  produced  the  most  beautiful  effect  that  can  be  con- 
ceived. It  was  like  what  I  should  suppose  an  underground 
cave  or  temple  to  be,  with  a  dripping  or  moist  roof,  and 
the  moonlight  entering  in  upon  it  by  some  means  or  other, 
and  yet  the  colours  were  more  like  melted  gems.  I  lay 
looking  up  till  the  light  of  the  fire  faded  away,  and  the  man 
and  his  wife  and  child  had  crept  into  their  bed  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room.  I  did  not  sleep  much,  but  passed 
a  comfortable  night,  for  my  bed,  though  hard,  was  warm 
and  clean  :  the  unusualness  of  my  situation  prevented  me 
from  sleeping.  I  could  hear  the  waves  beat  against  the 
shore  of  the  lake  ;  a  little  '  syke '  close  to  the  door  made  a 
much  louder  noise  ;  and  when  I  sate  up  in  my  bed  I  could 
see  the  lake  through  an  open  window-place  at  the  bed's 
head.  Add  to  this,  it  rained  all  night.  I  was  less  occu- 
pied by  remembrance  of  the  Trossachs,  beautiful  as  they 
were,  than  the  vision  of  the  Highland  hut,  which  I  could 
not  get  out  of  my  head.  I  thought  of  the  Fairyland  of 
Spenser,  and  what  I  had  read  in  romance  at  other  times, 
and  then,  what  a  feast  would  it  be  for  a  London  panto- 
mime-maker, could  he  but  transplant  it  to  Drury  Lane, 
with  all  its  beautiful  colours  ! 


106  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 


THIRD    WEEK. 

Sunday,  August  2Sth. — "We  were  desirous  to  have  crossed 
the  mountains  above  Glengyle  to  Glenfalloch,  at  the  head 
of  Loch  Lomond,  but  it  rained  so  heavily  that  it  was 
impossible,  so  the  ferryman  engaged  to  row  us  to  the 
point  where  Coleridge  and  I  had  rested,  while  William  was 
going  on  our  doubtful  adventure.  The  hostess  provided 
us  with  tea  and  sugar  for  our  breakfast ;  the  water  was 
boiled  in  an  iron  pan,  and  dealt  out  to  us  in  a  jug,  a  proof 
that  she  does  not  often  drink  tea,  though  she  said  she  had 
always  tea  and  sugar  in  the  house.  She  and  the  rest  of 
the  family  breakfasted  on  curds  and  whey,  as  taken  out  of 
the  pot  in  which  she  was  making  cheese;  she  insisted 
upon  my  taking  some  also  ;  and  her  husband  joined  in 
with  the  old  story,  that  it  was  '  varra  halesome.'  I  thought 
it  exceedingly  good,  and  said  to  myself  that  they  lived 
nicely  with  their  cow  :  she  was  meat,  drink,  and  company. 
Before  breakfast  the  housewife  was  milking  behind  the 
chimney,  and  I  thought  I  had  seldom  heard  a  sweeter 
fire-side  sound;  in  an  evening,  sitting  over  a  sleepy, 
low-burnt  fire,  it  would  lull  one  like  the  purring  of  a 
cat. 

"When  we  departed,  the  good  woman  shook  me  cordially 
by  the  hand,  saying  she  hoped  that  if  ever  we  came  into 
Scotland  again,  we  would  come  and  see  her.  The  lake 
was  calm,  but  it  rained  so  heavily  that  we  could  see  little. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  107 

Landed  at  about  ten  o'clock,  almost  wet  to  the  skin,  and, 
with  no  prospect  but  of  streaming  rains,  faced  the  mountain- 
road  to  Loch  Lomond.  We  recognised  the  same  objects 
passed  before, — the  tarn,  the  potato-bed,  and  the  cottages 
with  their  burnies,  which  were  no  longer,  as  one  might 
say,  household  streams,  but  made  us  only  think  of  the 
mountains  and  rocks  they  came  from.  Indeed,  it  is  not 
easy  to  imagine  how  different  everything  appeared  :  the 
mountains  with  mists  and  torrents  alive  and  always  chang- 
ing ;  but  the  low  grounds  where  the  inhabitants  had  been 
at  work  the  day  before  were  melancholy,  with  here  and 
there  a  few  haycocks  and  hay  scattered  about. 

Wet  as  we  were,  William  and  I  turned  out  of  our  path 
to  the  Garrison  house.  A  few  rooms  of  it  seemed  to  be 
inhabited  by  some  wretchedly  poor  families,  and  it  had  all 
the  desolation  of  a  large  decayed  mansion  in  the  suburbs  of 
a  town,  abandoned  of  its  proper  inhabitants,  and  become 
the  abode  of  paupers.  In  spite  of  its  outside  bravery,  it 
was  but  a  poor  protection  against  '  the  sword  of  winter, 
keen  and  cold.'  We  looked  at  the  building  through  the 
arch  of  a  broken  gateway  of  the  courtyard,  in  the  middle  of 
which  it  stands.  Upon  that  stormy  day  it  appeared  more 
than  desolate ;  there  was  something  about  it  even  frightful. 

When  beginning  to  descend  the  hill  towards  Loch 
Lomond,  we  overtook  two  girls,  who  told  us  we  could  not 
cross  the  ferry  till  evening,  for  the  boat  was  gone  with  a 
number  of  people  to  church.  One  of  the  girls  was  exceed- 
ingly beautiful ;  and  the  figures  of  both  of  them,  in  grey 
plaids  falling  to  their  feet,  their  faces  only  being  uncovered, 
excited  our  attention  before  we  spoke  to  them ;  but  they 
answered  us  so  sweetly  that  we  were  quite  delighted,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  stared  at  us  with  an  innocent 


108  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

look  of  wonder.  I  think  I  never  heard  the  English 
language  sound  more  sweetly  than  from  the  mouth  of  the 
elder  of  these  girls,  while  she  stood  at  the  gate  answering 
our  inquiries,  her  face  flushed  with  the  rain;  her  pro- 
nunciation was  clear  and  distinct :  without  difficulty,  yet 
slow,  like  that  of  a  foreign  speech.  They  told  us  we  might 
sit  in  the  ferry-house  till  the  return  of  the  boat,  went  in 
with  us,  and  made  a  good  fire  as  fast  as  possible  to  dry  our 
wet  clothes.  We  learnt  that  the  taller  was  the  sister  of 
the  ferryman,  and  had  been  left  in  charge  with  the  house 
for  the  day,  that  the  other  was  his  wife's  sister,  and 
was  come  with  her  mother  on  a  visit, — an  old  woman,  who 
sate  in  a  corner  beside  the  cradle,  nursing  her  little  grand- 
child. We  were  glad  to  be  housed,  with  our  feet  upon  a 
warm  hearth-stone;  and  our  attendants  were  so  active 
and  good-humoured  that  it  was  pleasant  to  have  to  desire 
them  to  do  anything.  The  younger  was  a  delicate  and 
unhealthy-looking  girl ;  but  there  was  an  uncommon 
meekness  in  her  countenance,  with  an  air  of  premature 
intelligence,  which  is  often  seen  in  sickly  young  persons. 
The  other  made  me  think  of  Peter  Bell's  '  Highland  Girl : ' 

4  As  light  and  beauteous  as  a  squirrel, 
As  beauteous  and  as  wild.' 

She  moved  with  unusual  activity,  which  was  chastened 
very  delicately  by  a  certain  hesitation  in  her  looks  when 
she  spoke,  being  able  to  understand  us  but  imperfectly. 
They  were  both  exceedingly  desirous  to  get  me  what  I 
wanted  to  make  me  comfortable.  I  was  to  have  a  gown 
and  petticoat  of  the  mistress's ;  so  they  turned  out  her 
whole  wardrobe  upon  the  parlour  floor,  talking  Erse  to 
one  another,  and  laughing  all  the  time.  It  was  long  before 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  109 

they  could  decide  which  of  the  gowns  I  was  to  have ;  they 
chose  at  last,  no  doubt  thinking  that  it  was  the  best,  a 
light-coloured  sprigged  cotton,  with  long  sleeves,  and  they 
both  laughed  while  I  was  putting  it  on,  with  the  blue 
linsey  petticoat,  and  one  or  the  other,  or  both  together, 
helped  me  to  dress,  repeating  at  least  half  a  dozen  times, 
'  You  never  had  on  the  like  of  that  before.'  They  held  a 
consultation  of  several  minutes  over  a  pair  of  coarse  woollen 
stockings,  gabbling  Erse  as  fast  as  their  tongues  could 
move,  and  looked  as  if  uncertain  what  to  do  :  at  last,  with 
great  diffidence,  they  offered  them  to  me,  adding,  as  before, 
that  I  had  never  worn  'the  like  of  them.'  When  we 
entered  the  house  we  had  been  not  a  little  glad  to  see  a 
fowl  stewing  in  barley-broth ;  and  now,  when  the  wettest 
of  our  clothes  were  stripped  off,  began  again  to  recollect 
that  we  were  hungry,  and  asked  if  we  could  have  dinner. 
'  Oh  yes,  ye  may  get  that,'  the  elder  replied,  pointing  to 
the  pan  on  the  fire. 

Conceive  what  a  busy  house  it  was — all  our  wet  clothes 
to  be  dried,  dinner  prepared  and  set  out  for  us  four 
strangers,  and  a  second  cooking  for  the  family ;  add  to  this, 
two  rough  '  callans/  as  they  called  them,  boys  about  eight 
years  old,  were  playing  beside  us;  the  poor  baby  was 
fretful  all  the  while ;  the  old  woman  sang  doleful  Erse  songs, 
rocking  it  in  its  cradle  the  more  violently  the  more  it  cried  ; 
then  there  were  a  dozen  cookings  of  porridge,  and  it  could 
never  be  fed  without  the  assistance  of  all  three.  The  hut  was 
after  the  Highland  fashion,  but  without  anything  beauti- 
ful, except  its  situation ;  the  floor  was  rough,  and  wet  with 
the  rain  that  came  in  at  the  door,  so  that  the  lasses' 
bare  feet  were  as  wet  as  if  they  had  been  walking  through 
street  puddles,  in  passing  from  one  room  to  another;  the 


110  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

windows  were  open,  as  at  the  other  hut ;  but  the  kitchen 
had  a  bed  in  it,  and  was  much  smaller,  and  the  shape  of 
the  house  was  like  that  of  a  common  English  cottage,  with- 
out its  comfort ;  yet  there  was  no  appearance  of  poverty — 
indeed,  quite  the  contrary.  The  peep  out  of  the  open  door- 
place  across  the  lake  made  some  amends  for  the  want  of 
the  long  roof  and  elegant  rafters  of  our  boatman's  cottage, 
and  all  the  while  the  waterfall,  which  we  could  not  see, 
was  roaring  at  the  end  of  the  hut,  which  seemed  to  serve 
as  a  sounding-board  for  its  noise,  so  that  it  was  not 
unlike  sitting  in  a  house  where  a  mill  is  going.  The  dash- 
ing of  the  waves  against  the  shore  could  not  be  distin- 
guished ;  yet  in  spite  of  my  knowledge  of  this  I  could  not 
help  fancying  that  the  tumult  and  storm  came  from  the 
lake,  and  went  out  several  times  to  see  if  it  was  possible  to 
row  over  in  safety. 

After  long  waiting  we  grew  impatient  for  our  dinner ; 
at  last  the  pan  was  taken  off,  and  carried  into  the  other 
room;  but  we  had  to  wait  at  least  another  half  hour 
before  the  ceremony  of  dishing  up  was  completed;  yet 
with  all  this  bustle  and  difficulty,  the  manner  in  which 
they,  and  particularly  the  elder  of  the  girls,  performed 
everything,  was  perfectly  graceful.  We  ate  a  hearty 
dinner,  and  had  time  to  get  our  clothes  quite  dry  before 
the  arrival  of  the  boat.  The  girls  could  not  say  at  what 
time  it  would  be  at  home ;  on  our  asking  them  if  the  church 
was  far  off  they  replied,  '  Not  very  far ;'  and  when  we 
asked  how  far,  they  said, '  Perhaps  about  four  or  five  miles.' 
I  believe  a  Church  of  England  congregation  would  hold 
themselves  excused  for  non-attendance  three  parts  of  the 
year,  having  but  half  as  far  to  go ;  but  in  the  lonely  parts 
of  Scotland  they  make  little  of  a  journey  of  nine  or  ten 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND,  111 

miles  to  a  preaching.  They  have  not  perhaps  an  oppor- 
tunity of  going  more  than  once  in  a  quarter  of  a  year,  and, 
setting  piety  aside,  have  other  motives  to  attend :  they 
hear  the  news,  public  and  private,  and  see  their  friends  and 
neighbours ;  for,  though  the  people  who  meet  at  these  times 
may  be  gathered  together  from  a  circle  of  twenty  miles' 
diameter,  a  sort  of  neighbourly  connexion  must  be  so 
brought  about.  There  is  something  exceedingly  pleasing 
to  my  imagination  in  this  gathering  together  of  the  in- 
habitants of  these  secluded  districts — for  instance,  the  bor- 
derers of  these  two  large  lakes  meeting  at  the  deserted 
garrison  which  I  have  described.  The  manner  of  their  travel- 
ling is  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  in  boats  across  the  waters, 
— young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  all  in  their  best  dress. 

If  it  were  not  for  these  Sabbath-day  meetings  one  sum- 
mer month  would  be  like  another  summer  month,  one 
winter  month  like  another — detached  from  the  goings-on 
of  the  world,  and  solitary  throughout ;  from  the  time  of 
earliest  childhood  they  will  be  like  landing-places  in  the 
memory  of  a  person  who  has  passed  his  life  in  these  thinly- 
peopled  regions  ;  they  must  generally  leave  distinct  im- 
pressions, differing  from  each  other  so  much  as  they  do  in 
circumstances,  in  time  and  place,  etc., — some  in  the  open 
fields,  upon  hills,  in  houses,  under  large  rocks,  in  storms, 
and  in  fine  weather. 

But  I  have  forgotten  the  fireside  of  our  hut.  After 
long  waiting,  the  girls,  who  had  been  on  the  look-out, 
informed  us  that  the  boat  was  coming.  I  went  to  the 
water-side,  and  saw  a  cluster  of  people  on  the  opposite 
shore ;  but,  being  yet  at  a  distance,  they  looked  more  like 
soldiers  surrounding  a  carriage  than  a  group  of  men  and 
women;  red  and  green  were  the  distinguishable  colours. 


112  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

We  hastened  to  get  ourselves  ready  as  soon  as  we  saw  the 
party  approach,  but  had  longer  to  wait  than  we  expected, 
the  lake  being  wider  than  it  appears  to  be.  As  they  drew 
near  we  could  distinguish  men  in  tartan  plaids,  women  in 
scarlet  cloaks,  and  green  umbrellas  by  the  half-dozen.  The 
landing  was  as  pretty  a  sight  as  ever  I  saw.  The  bay, 
which  had  been  so  quiet  two  days  before,  was  all  in  motion 
with  small  waves,  while  the  swoln  waterfall  roared  in  our 
ears.  The  boat  came  steadily  up,  being  pressed  almost  to 
the  water's  edge  by  the  weight  of  its  cargo;  perhaps 
twenty  people  landed,  one  after  another.  It  did  not  rain 
much,  but  the  women  held  up  their  umbrellas ;  they  were 
dressed  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  and  with  their 
scarlet  cardinals,  the  tartan  plaids  of  the  men,  and  Scotch 
bonnets,  made  a  gay  appearance.  There  was  a  joyous 
bustle  surrounding  the  boat,  which  even  imparted  some- 
thing of  the  same  character  to  the  waterfall  in  its  tumult, 
and  the  restless  grey  waves ;  the  young  men  laughed  and 
shouted,  the  lasses  laughed,  and  the  elder  folks  seemed  to 
be  in  a  bustle  to  be  away.  I  remember  well  with  what  haste 
the  mistress  of  the  house  where  we  were  ran  up  to  seek 
after  her  child,  and  seeing  us,  how  anxiously  and  kindly 
she  inquired  how  we  had  fared,  if  we  had  had  a  good 
fire,  had  been  well  waited  upon,  etc.  etc.  All  this  in  three 
minutes — for  the  boatman  had  another  party  to  bring  from 
the  other  side,  and  hurried  us  off. 

The  hospitality  we  had  met  with  at  the  two  cottages 
and  Mr.  Macfarlane's  gave  us  very  favourable  impressions 
on  this  our  first  entrance  into  the  Highlands,  and  at  this 
day  the  innocent  merriment  of  the  girls,  with  their  kind- 
ness to  us,  and  the  beautiful  figure  and  face  of  the  elder, 
come  to  my  mind  whenever  I  think  of  the  ferry-house 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  113 

and  waterfall  of  Loch  Lomond,  and  I  never  think  of  the 
two  girls  but  the  whole  image  of  that  romantic  spot  is 
before  me,  a  living  image,  as  it  will  be  to  my  dying  day. 
The  following  poem*  was  written  by  William  not  long 
after  our  return  from  Scotland : — 

Sweet  Highland  Girl,  a  very  shower 

Of  beauty  is  thy  earthly  dower  ! 

Twice  seven  consenting  years  have  shed 

Their  utmost  bounty  on  thy  head  : 

And  these  grey  rocks ;  this  household  lawn ; 

These  trees,  a  veil  just  half  withdrawn ; 

This  fall  of  water,  that  doth  make 

A  murmur  near  the  silent  Lake  ; 

This  little  Bay,  a  quiet  road 

That  holds  in  shelter  thy  abode ; 

In  truth  together  ye  do  seem 

Like  something  fashion'd  in  a  dream ; 

Such  forms  as  from  their  covert  peep 

When  earthly  cares  are  laid  asleep ! 

Yet,  dream  and  vision  as  thou  art, 

I  bless  thee  with  a  human  heart : 

God  shield  thee  to  thy  latest  years ! 

I  neither  know  thee  nor  thy  peers ; 

And  yet  my  eyes  are  filled  with  tears. 

With  earnest  feeling  I  shall  pray 
For  thee  when  I  am  far  away : 
For  never  saw  I  mien  or  face, 
In  which  more  plainly  I  could  trace 
Benignity  and  home-bred  sense 
Ripening  in  perfect  innocence. 

*  To  a  Highland  Girl.    At  Inversneyde  upon  Loch  Lomond. 
H 


114  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Here,  scattered  like  a  random  seed, 
Remote  from  men,  thou  dost  not  need 
TV  embarrass'd  look  of  shy  distress 
And  maidenly  shamefacedness ; 
Thou  wear'st  upon  thy  forehead  clear 
The  freedom  of  a  mountaineer  : 
A  face  with  gladness  overspread ! 
Sweet  smiles,  by  human- kindness  bred ! 
And  seemliness  complete,  that  sways 
Thy  courtesies,  about  thee  plays ; 
With  no  restraint  but  such  as  springs 
From  quick  and  eager  visitings 
Of  thoughts  that  lie  beyond  the  reach 
Of  thy  few  words  of  English  speech  : 
A  bondage  sweetly  brook'd,  a  strife 
That  gives  thy  gestures  grace  and  life ! 
So  have  I,  not  unmoved  in  mind, 
Seen  birds  of  tempest-loving  kind, 
Thus  beating  up  against  the  wind. 

What  hand  but  would  a  garland  cull 
For  thee,  who  art  so  beautiful1? 
0  happy  pleasure !  here  to  dwell 
Beside  thee  in  some  heathy  dell ; 
Adopt  your  homely  ways  and  dress, 
A  Shepherd,  thou  a  Shepherdess ! 
But  I  could  frame  a  wish  for  thee 
More  like  a  grave  reality  : 
Thou  art  to  me  but  as  a  wave 
Of  the  wild  sea  :  and  I  would  have 
Some  claim  upon  thee,  if  I  could, 
Though  but  of  common  neighbourhood. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  115 

What  joy  to  hear  thee  and  to  see  ! 
Thy  elder  brother  I  would  be, 
Thy  father — anything  to  thee. 

Now  thanks  to  Heaven !  that  of  its  grace 

Hath  led  me  to  this  lonely  place  ! 

Joy  have  I  had ;  and  going  hence 

I  bear  away  my  recompence. 

In  spots  like  these  it  is  we  prize 

Our  memory,  feel  that  she  hath  eyes  : 

Then  why  should  I  be  loth  to  stir  ] 

I  feel  this  place  is  made  for  her ; 

To  give  new  pleasure  like  the  past 

Continued  long  as  life  shall  last. 

Nor  am  I  loth,  though  pleased  at  heart, 

Sweet  Highland  Girl,  from  thee  to  part ; 

For  I,  methinks,  till  I  grow  old, 

As  fair  before  me  shall  behold 

As  I  do  now,  the  Cabin  small, 

The  Lake,  the  Bay,  the  Waterfall, 

And  thee,  the  Spirit  of  them  all. 

We  were  rowed  over  speedily  by  the  assistance  of  two 
youths,  who  went  backwards  and  forwards  for  their  own 
amusement,  helping  at  the  oars,  and  pulled  as  if  they  had 
strength  and  spirits  to  spare  for  a  year  to  come.  We  noticed 
that  they  had  uncommonly  fine  teeth,  and  that  they  and 
the  boatmen  were  very  handsome  people.  Another  merry 
crew  took  our  place  in  the  boat. 

We  had  three  miles  to  walk  to  Tarbet.  It  rained,  but 
not  heavily ;  the  mountains  were  not  concealed  from  us  by 
the  mists,  but  appeared  larger  and  more  grand ;  twilight 
was  coming  on,  and  the  obscurity  under  which  we  saw  the 


116  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

objects,  with  the  sounding  of  the  torrents,  kept  our  minds 
alive  and  wakeful ;  all  was  solitary  and  huge — sky,  water, 
and  mountains  mingled  together.  While  we  were  walking 
forward,  the  road  leading  us  over  the  top  of  a  brow,  we 
stopped  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  a  half-articulate  Gaelic 
hooting  from  the  field  close  to  us.  It  came  from  a  little  boy, 
whom  we  could  see  on  the  hill  between  us  and  the  lake, 
wrapped  up  in  a  grey  plaid.  He  was  probably  calling  home 
the  cattle  for  the  night.  His  appearance  was  in  the  highest 
degree  moving  to  the  imagination  :  mists  were  on  the  hill- 
sides, darkness  shutting  in  upon  the  huge  avenue  of  moun- 
tains, torrents  roaring,  no  house  in  sight  to  which  the  child 
might  belong ;  his  dress,  cry,  and  appearance  all  different 
from  anything  we  had  been  accustomed  to.  It  was  a  text, 
as  William  has  since  observed  to  me,  containing  in  itself 
the  whole  history  of  the  Highlander's  life — his  melancholy, 
his  simplicity,  his  poverty,  his  superstition,  and  above  all, 
that  visionariness  which  results  from  a  communion  with  the 
unworldliness  of  nature. 

When  we  reached  Tarbet  the  people  of  the  house  were 
anxious  to  know  how  we  had  fared,  particularly  the  girl 
who  had  waited  upon  us.  Our  praises  of  Loch  Ketterine 
made  her  exceedingly  happy,  and  she  ventured  to  say,  of 
which  we  had  heard  not  a  word  before,  that  it  was  '  bonnier 
to  her  fancy  than  Loch  Lomond.'12  The  landlord,  who  was 
not  at  home  when  we  had  set  off,  told  us  that  if  he  had 
known  of  our  going  he  would  have  recommended  us  to  Mr. 
Macfarlane's  or  the  other  farm-house,  adding  that  they  were 
hospitable  people  in  that  vale.  Coleridge  and  I  got  tea, 
and  William  and  the  drawing-master  chose  supper;  they 
asked  to  have  a  broiled  fowl,  a  dish  very  common  in  Scot- 
land, to  which  the  mistress  replied,  '  Would  not  a  "  boiled  " 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  117 

one  do  as  well  ? '  They  consented,  supposing  that  it  would 
be  more  easily  cooked ;  but  when  the  fowl  made  its  appear- 
ance, to  their  great  disappointment  it  proved  a  cold  one 
that  had  been  stewed  in  the  broth  at  dinner. 

Monday,  August  29th. — It  rained  heavily  this  morning, 
and,  having  heard  so  much  of  the  long  rains  since  we 
came  into  Scotland,  as  well  as  before,  we  had  no  hope  that 
it  would  be  over  in  less  than  three  weeks  at  the  least,  so 
poor  Coleridge,  being  very  unwell,  determined  to  send  his 
clothes  to  Edinburgh  and  make  the  best  of  his  way  thither, 
being  afraid  to  face  much  wet  weather  in  an  open  carriage. 
William  and  I  were  unwilling  to  be  confined  at  Tarbet, 
so  we  resolved  to  go  to  Arrochar,  a  mile  and  a  half  on  the 
road  to  Inverary,  where  there  is  an  inn  celebrated  as  a 
place  of  good  accommodation  for  travellers.  Coleridge  and 
I  set  off  on  foot,  and  William  was  to  follow  with  the  car, 
but  a  heavy  shower  coming  on,  Coleridge  left  me  to  shelter 
in  a  hut  and  wait  for  William  while  he  went  on  before. 
This  hut  was  unplastered,  and  without  windows,  crowded 
with  beds,  uncomfortable,  and  not  in  the  simplicity  of  the 
ferryman's  house.  A  number  of  good  clothes  were  hanging 
against  the  walls,  and  a  green  silk  umbrella  was  set  up  in 
a  corner.  I  should  have  been  surprised  to  see  an  umbrella 
in  such  a  place  before  we  came  into  the  Highlands ;  but 
umbrellas  are  not  so  common  anywhere  as  there — a  plain 
proof  of  the  wetness  of  the  climate;  even  five  minutes 
after  this  a  girl  passed  us  without  shoes  and  stockings, 
whose  gown  and  petticoat  were  not  worth  half  a  crown, 
holding  an  umbrella  over  her  bare  head. 

We  turned  at  a  guide  post,  '  To  the  New  Inn,'  and,  after 
descending  a  little,  and  winding  round  the  bottom  of  a  hill, 


118  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

saw,  at  a  small  distance,  a  white  house  half  hidden  by  tall 
trees  upon  a  lawn  that  slopes  down  to  the  side  of  Loch 
Long,  a  sea-loch,  which  is  here  very  narrow.  Right  before 
us,  across  the  lake,  was  The  Cobbler,  which  appeared  to  rise 
directly  from  the  water ;  but,  in  fact,  it  overtopped  another 
hill,  being  a  considerable  way  behind.  The  inn  looked  so 
much  like  a  gentleman's  house  that  we  could  hardly  believe 
it  was  an  inn.  We  drove  down  the  broad  gravel  walk,  and, 
making  a  sweep,  stopped  at  the  front  door,  were  shown 
into  a  large  parlour  with  a  fire,  and  my  first  thought  was, 
How  comfortable  we  should  be !  but  Coleridge,  who  had 
arrived  before  us,  checked  my  pleasure :  the  waiter  had 
shown  himself  disposed  to  look  coolly  upon  us,  and  there 
had  been  a  hint  that  we  could  not  have  beds ; — a  party  was 
expected,  who  had  engaged  all  the  beds.  We  conjectured 
this  might  be  but  a  pretence,  and  ordered  dinner  in  the 
hope  that  matters  would  clear  up  a  little,  and  we  thought 
they  could  not  have  the  heart  to  turn  us  out  in  so  heavy  a 
rain  if  it  were  possible  to  lodge  us.  We  had  a  nice  dinner, 
yet  would  have  gladly  changed  our  roasted  lamb  and  pickles, 
and  the  gentleman- waiter  with  his  napkin  in  his  pocket,  for 
the  more  homely  fare  of  the  smoky  hut  at  Loch  Ketterine, 
and  the  good  woman's  busy  attentions,  with  the  certainty 
of  a  hospitable  shelter  at  night.  After  dinner  I  spoke  to 
the  landlord  himself,  but  he  was  not  to  be  moved :  he 
could  not  even  provide  one  bed  for  me,  so  nothing  was  to 
be  done  but  either  to  return  to  Tarbet  with  Coleridge,  or 
that  William  and  I  should  push  on  the  next  stage,  to 
Cairndow.  We  had  an  interesting  close  view  from  the 
windows  of  the  room  where  we  sate,  looking  across  the 
lake,  which  did  not  differ  in  appearance,  as  we  saw  it  here, 
from  a  fresh- water  lake.  The  sloping  lawn  on  which  the 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  119 

house  stood  was  prettily  scattered  over  with  trees ;  but  we 
had  seen  the  place  to  great  advantage  at  our  first  approach, 
owing  to  the  mists  upon  the  mountains,  which  had  made 
them  seem  exceedingly  high,  while  the  strange  figures  on 
The  Cobbler  appeared  and  disappeared,  like  living  things ; 
but,  as  the  day  cleared  we  were  disappointed  in  what  was 
more  like  the  permanent  effect  of  the  scene  :  the  mountains 
were  not  so  lofty  as  we  had  supposed,  and  the  low  grounds 
not  so  fertile ;  yet  still  it  is  a  very  interesting,  I  may  say 
beautiful,  place. 

The  rain  ceased  entirely,  so  we  resolved  to  go  on  to 
Cairndow,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  our  land- 
lord had  not  told  us  an  untruth  concerning  the  expected 
company;  for  just  before  our  departure  we  saw,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  vale,  a  coach  with  four  horses,  another 
carriage,  and  two  or  three  men  on  horseback — a  striking 
procession,  as  it  moved  along  between  the  bare  mountain 
and  the  lake.  Twenty  years  ago,  perhaps,  such  a  sight  had 
not  been  seen  here  except  when  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  or 
some  other  Highland  chieftain,  might  chance  to  be  going 
with  his  family  to  London  or  Edinburgh.  They  had  to 
cross  a  bridge  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  which  we  could  not 
see,  so,  after  disappearing  about  ten  minutes,  they  drove  up 
to  the  door — three  old  ladies,  two  waiting-women,  and  store 
of  men-servants.  The  old  ladies  were  as  gaily  dressed  as  bull- 
finches in  spring-time.  We  heard  the  next  day  that  they 
were  the  renowned  Miss  Waughs  of  Carlisle,  and  that  they 
enjoyed  themselves  over  a  game  at  cards  in  the  evening. 

Left  Arrochar  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
Coleridge  accompanied  us  a  little  way ;  we  portioned  out 
the  contents  of  our  purse  before  our  parting ;  and,  after  we 
had  lost  sight  of  him,  drove  heavily  along.  Crossed  the 


120  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

bridge,  and  looked  to  the  right,  up  the  vale,  which  is  soon 
terminated  by  mountains  :  it  was  of  a  yellow  green,  with  but 
few  trees  and  few  houses ;  sea-gulls  were  flying  above  it. 
Our  road — the  same  along  which  the  carriages  had  come 
— was  directly  under  the  mountains  on  our  right  hand,  and 
the  lake  was  close  to  us  on  our  left,  the  waves  breaking 
among  stones  overgrown  with  yellow  sea-weed ;  fishermen's 
boats,  and  other  larger  vessels  than  are  seen  on  fresh-water 
lakes  were  lying  at  anchor  near  the  opposite  shore ;  sea- 
birds  flying  overhead ;  the  noise  of  torrents  mingled  witli 
the  beating  of  the  waves,  and  misty  mountains  enclosed 
the  vale; — a  melancholy  but  not  a  dreary  scene.  Often 
have  I,  in  looking  over  a  map  of  Scotland,  followed  the 
intricate  windings  of  one  of  these  sea-lochs,  till,  pleasing 
myself  with  my  own  imaginations,  I  have  felt  a  longing, 
almost  painful,  to  travel  among  them  by  land  or  by  water. 
This  was  the  first  sea-loch  we  had  seen.  We  came  pre- 
pared for  a  new  and  great  delight,  and  the  first  impression 
which  William  and  I  received,  as  we  drove  rapidly  through 
the  rain  down  the  lawn  of  Arrochar,  the  objects  dancing 
before  us,  was  even  more  delightful  than  we  had  expected. 
But,  as  I  have  said,  when  we  looked  through  the  window, 
as  the  mists  disappeared  and  the  objects  were  seen  more 
distinctly,  there  was  less  of  sheltered  valley-comfort  than 
we  had  fancied  to  ourselves,  and  the  mountains  were  not 
so  grand ;  and  now  that  we  were  near  to  the  shore  of 
the  lake,  and  could  see  that  it  was  not  of  fresh  water,  the 
wreck,  the  broken  sea-shells,  and  scattered  sea- weed  gave 
somewhat  of  a  dull  and  uncleanly  look  to  the  whole  lake, 
and  yet  the  water  was  clear,  and  might  have  appeared  as 
beautiful  as  that  of  Loch  Lomond,  if  with  the  same  pure 
pebbly  shore.  Perhaps,  had  we  been  in  a  more  cheerful 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  121 

mood  of  mind  we  might  have  seen  everything  with  a  dif- 
ferent eye.  The  stillness  of  the  mountains,  the  motion  of 
the  waves,  the  streaming  torrents,  the  sea-birds,  the  fishing- 
boats  were  all  melancholy;  yet  still,  occupied  as  my  mind 
was  with  other  things,  I  thought  of  the  long  windings 
through  which  the  waters  of  the  sea  had  come  to  this  in- 
land retreat,  visiting  the  inner  solitudes  of  the  mountains, 
and  I  could  have  wished  to  have  mused  out  a  summer's  day 
on  the  shores  of  the  lake.  From  the  foot  of  these  moun- 
tains whither  might  not  a  little  barque  carry  one  away  ] 
Though  so  far  inland,  it  is  but  a  slip  of  the  great  ocean  : 
seamen,  fishermen,  and  shepherds  here  find  a  natural  home. 
We  did  not  travel  far  down  the  lake,  but,  turning  to  the 
right  through  an  opening  of  the  mountains,  entered  a  glen 
called  Glen  Croe. 

Our  thoughts  were  full  of  Coleridge,  and  when  we  were 
enclosed  in  the  narrow  dale,  with  a  length  of  winding  road 
before  us,  a  road  that  seemed  to  have  insinuated  itself  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  mountains — the  brook,  the  road,  bare 
hills,  floating  mists,  scattered  stones,  rocks,  and  herds  of 
black  cattle  being  all  that  we  could  see, — I  shivered  at  the 
thought  of  his  being  sickly  and  alone,  travelling  from  place 
to  place. 

The  Cobbler,  on  our  right,  was  pre-eminent  above  the 
other  hills  ;  the  singular  rocks  on  its  summit,  seen  so  near, 
were  like  ruins — castles  or  watch-towers.  After  we  had 
passed  one  reach  of  the  glen,  another  opened  out,  long, 
narrow,  deep,  and  houseless,  with  herds  of  cattle  and  large 
stones ;  but  the  third  reach  was  softer  and  more  beautiful, 
as  if  the  mountains  had  there  made  a  warmer  shelter,  and 
there  were  a  more  gentle  climate.  The  rocks  by  the  river- 
side had  dwindled  away,  the  mountains  were  smooth  and 


122  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

green,  and  towards  the  end,  where  the  glen  sloped  upwards, 
it  was  a  cradle-like  hollow,  and  at  that  point  where  the 
slope  became  a  hill,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  curve  of  the 
cradle,  stood  one  cottage,  with  a  few  fields  and  beds  of 
potatoes.  There  was  also  another  house  near  the  roadside, 
which  appeared  to  be  a  herdsman's  hut.  The  dwelling  in 
the  middle  of  the  vale  was  a  very  pleasing  object.  I  said 
within  myself,  How  quietly  might  a  family  live  in  this  pen- 
sive solitude,  cultivating  and  loving  their  own  fields  !  but 
the  herdsman's  hut,  being  the  only  one  in  the  vale,  had  a 
melancholy  face  ;  not  being  attached  to  any  particular  plot 
of  land,  one  could  not  help  considering  it  as  just  kept  alive 
and  above  ground  by  some  dreary  connexion  with  the  long 
barren  tract  we  had  travelled  through. 

The  afternoon  had  been  exceedingly  pleasant  after  we 
had  left  the  vale  of  Arrochar ;  the  sky  was  often  threaten- 
ing, but  the  rain  blew  off,  and  the  evening  was  uncommonly 
fine.  The  sun  had  set  a  short  time  before  we  had  dis- 
mounted from  the  car  to  walk  up  the  steep  hill  at  the  end 
of  the  glen.  Clouds  were  moving  all  over  the  sky — some 
of  a  brilliant  yellow  hue,  which  shed  a  light  like  bright 
moonlight  upon  the  mountains.  We  could  not  have  seen 
the  head  of  the  valley  under  more  favourable  circum- 
stances. 

The  passing  away  of  a  storm  is  always  a  time  of  life  and 
cheerfulness,  especially  in  a  mountainous  country ;  but  that 
afternoon  and  evening  the  sky  was  in  an  extraordinary 
degree  vivid  and  beautiful.  We  often  stopped  in  ascend- 
ing the  hill  to  look  down  the  long  reach  of  the  glen.  The 
road,  following  the  course  of  the  river  as  far  as  we  could 
see,  the  farm  and  cottage,  hills,  smooth  towards  the  base 
and  rocky  higher  up,  were  the  sole  objects  before  us.  This 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  123 

part  of  Glen  Croe  reminded  us  of  some  of  the  dales  of  the 
north  of  England — Grisdale  above  Ulswater,  for  instance ; 
but  the  length  of  it,  and  the  broad  highway,  which  is 
always  to  be  seen  at  a  great  distance,  a  sort  of  centre  of 
the  vale,  a  point  of  reference,  gives  to  the  whole  of  the 
glen,  and  each  division  of  it,  a  very  different  character. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  we  came  to  a  seat  with  the  well- 
known  inscription,  '  Rest  and  be  thankful.'  On  the  same 
stone  it  was  recorded  that  the  road  had  been  made  by 
Col.  Wade's  regiment.  The  seat  is  placed  so  as  to  com- 
mand a  full  view  of  the  valley,  and  the  long,  long  road, 
which,  with  the  fact  recorded,  and  the  exhortation,  makes 
it  an  affecting  resting-place.  We  called  to  mind  with 
pleasure  a  seat  under  the  braes  of  Loch  Lomond  on  which 
I  had  rested,  where  the  traveller  is  informed  by  an  inscrip- 
tion upon  a  stone  that  the  road  was  made  by  Col.  Lascelles' 
regiment.  There,  the  spot  had  not  been  chosen  merely  as 
a  resting-place,  for  there  was  no  steep  ascent  in  the  high- 
way, but  it  might  be  for  the  sake  of  a  spring  of  water  and 
a  beautiful  rock,  or,  more  probably,  because  at  that  point 
the  labour  had  been  more  than  usually  toilsome  in  hewing 
through  the  rock.  Soon  after  we  had  climbed  the  hill  we 
began  to  descend  into  another  glen,  called  Glen  Kinglas. 
We  now  saw  the  western  sky,  which  had  hitherto  been 
hidden  from  us  by  the  hill — a  glorious  mass  of  clouds  up- 
rising from  a  sea  of  distant  mountains,  stretched  out  in 
length  before  us,  towards  the  west — and  close  by  us  was  a 
small  lake  or  tarn.  From  the  reflection  of  the  crimson 
clouds  the  water  appeared  of  a  deep  red,  like  melted 
rubies,  yet  with  a  mixture  of  a  grey  or  blackish  hue  ;  the 
gorgeous  light  of  the  sky,  with  the  singular  colour  of  the 
lake,  made  the  scene  exceedingly  romantic ;  yet  it  was 


124  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

more  melancholy  than  cheerful.  With  all  the  power  of 
light  from  the  clouds,  there  was  an  overcasting  of  the 
gloom  of  evening,  a  twilight  upon  the  hills. 

We  descended  rapidly  into  the  glen,  which  resembles 
the  lower  part  of  Glen  Croe,  though  it  seemed  to  be  in- 
ferior in  beauty ;  but  before  we  had  passed  through  one 
reach  it  was  quite  dark,  and  I  only  know  that  the  steeps 
were  high,  and  that  we  had  the  company  of  a  foaming 
stream ;  and  many  a  vagrant  torrent  crossed  us,  dashing 
down  the  hills.  The  road  was  bad,  and,  uncertain  how  we 
should  fare,  we  were  eager  and  somewhat  uneasy  to  get 
forward ;  but  when  we  were  out  of  the  close  glen,  and 
near  to  Cairndow,  as  a  traveller  had  told  us,  the  moon 
showed  her  clear  face  in  the  sky,  revealing  a  spacious  vale, 
with  a  broad  loch  and  sloping  corn  fields;  the  hills 
not  very  high.  This  cheerful  sight  put  us  into  spirits, 
and  we  thought  it  was  at  least  no  dismal  place  to  sit  up 
all  night  in,  if  they  had  no  beds,  and  they  could  not  refuse 
us  a  shelter.  We  were,  however,  well  received,  and  sate 
down  in  a  neat  parlour  with  a  good  fire. 

Tuesday,  August  30^. — Breakfasted  before  our  departure, 
and  ate  a  herring,  fresh  from  the  water,  at  our  landlord's 
earnest  recommendation — much  superior  to  the  herrings 
we  get  in  the  north  of  England.*  Though  we  rose  at 
seven,  could  not  set  off  before  nine  o'clock ;  the  servants 
were  in  bed  ;  the  kettle  did  not  boil — indeed,  we  were 
completely  out  of  patience;  but  it  had  always  been  so, 
and  we  resolved  to  go  off  in  future  without  breakfast. 
Cairndow  is  a  single  house  by  the  side  of  the  loch,  I  be- 
lieve resorted  to  by  gentlemen  in  the  fishing  season  :  it  is 
*  I  should  rather  think  so  ! — Ed. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  125 

a  pleasant  place  for  such  a  purpose ;  but  the  vale  did  not 
look  so  beautiful  as  by  moonlight — it  had  a  sort  of  sea-cold- 
ness without  mountain  grandeur.  There  is  a  ferry  for  foot- 
passengers  from  Cairndow  to  the  other  side  of  the  water, 
and  the  road  along  which  all  carriages  go  is  carried  round 
the  head  of  the  lake,  perhaps  a  distance  of  three  miles. 

After  we  had  passed  the  landing-place  of  the  ferry  opposite 
to  Cairndow  we  saw  the  lake  spread  out  to  a  great  width, 
more  like  an  arm  of  the  sea  or  a  great  river  than  one  of 
our  lakes ;  it  reminded  us  of  the  Severn  at  the  Chepstow 
passage ;  but  the  shores  were  less  rich  and  the  hills  higher. 
The  sun  shone,  which  made  the  morning  cheerful,  though 
there  was  a  cold  wind.  Our  road  never  carried  us  far  from 
the  lake,  and  with  the  beating  of  the  waves,  the  sparkling 
sunshiny  water,  boats,  the  opposite  hills,  and,  on  the 
side  on  which  we  travelled,  the  chance  cottages,  the  cop- 
pice woods,  and  common  business  of  the  fields,  the  ride 
could  not  but  be  amusing.  But  what  most  excited  our 
attention  was,  at  one  particular  place,  a  cluster  of  fish- 
ing-boats at  anchor  in  a  still  corner  of  the  lake,  a  small 
bay  or  harbour  by  the  wayside.  They  were  overshadowed 
by  fishermen's  nets  hung  out  to  dry,  which  formed  a 
dark  awning  that  covered  them  like  a  tent,  overhanging 
the  water  on  each  side,  and  falling  in  the  most  exquisitely 
graceful  folds.  There  was  a  monastic  pensiveness,  a  fune- 
real gloom  in  the  appearance  of  this  little  company  of 
vessels,  which  was  the  more  interesting  from  the  general 
liveliness  and  glancing  motions  of  the  water,  they  being 
perfectly  still  and  silent  in  their  sheltered  nook. 

When  we  had  travelled  about  seven  miles  from  Cairndow, 
winding  round  the  bottom  of  a  hill,  we  came  in  view  of 
a  great  basin  or  elbow  of  the  lake.  Completely  out  of 


126  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

sight  of  the  long  track  of  water  we  had  coasted,  we  seemed 
now  to  be  on  the  edge  of  a  very  large,  almost  circular,  lake, 
the  town  of  Inverary  before  us,  a  line  of  white  buildings 
on  a  low  promontory  right  opposite,  and  close  to  the 
water's  edge ;  the  whole  landscape  a  showy  scene,  and 
bursting  upon  us  at  once.  A  traveller  who  was  riding  by 
our  side  called  out,  '  Can  that  be  the  Castle  V  Recollecting 
the  prints  which  we  had  seen,  we  knew  it  could  not ;  but 
the  mistake  is  a  natural  one  at  that  distance  :  it  is  so  little 
like  an  ordinary  town,  from  the  mixture  of  regularity  and 
irregularity  in  the  buildings.  With  the  expanse  of  water 
and  pleasant  mountains,  the  scattered  boats  and  sloops, 
and  those  gathered  together,  it  had  a  truly  festive  appear- 
ance. A  few  steps  more  brought  us  in  view  of  the  Castle, 
a  stately  turreted  mansion,  but  with  a  modern  air,  standing 
on  a  lawn,  retired  from  the  water,  and  screened  behind  by 
woods  covering  the  sides  of  high  hills  to  the  top,  and  still 
beyond,  by  bare  mountains.  Our  road  wound  round  the 
semicircular  shore,  crossing  two  bridges  of  lordly  archi- 
tecture. The  town  looked  pretty  when  we  drew  near  to 
it  in  connexion  with  its  situation,  different  from  any  place 
I  had  ever  seen,  yet  exceedingly  like  what  I  imaged  to 
myself  from  representations  in  raree-shows,  or  pictures  of 
foreign  places — Venice,  for  example — painted  on  the  scene 
of  a  play-house,  which  one  is  apt  to  fancy  are  as  cleanly 
and  gay  as  they  look  through  the  magnifying-glass  of  the 
raree-show  or  in  the  candle-light  dazzle  of  a  theatre.  At 
the  door  of  the  inn,  though  certainly  the  buildings  had  not 
that  delightful  outside  which  they  appeared  to  have  at  a 
distance,  yet  they  looked  very  pleasant.  The  range  bor- 
dering on  the  water  consisted  of  little  else  than  the  inn, 
being  a  large  house,  with  very  large  stables,  the  county 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  127 

gaol,  the  opening  into  the  main  street  into  the  town,  and 
an  arched  gateway,  the  entrance  into  the  Duke  of  Argyle's 
private  domain. 

We  were  decently  well  received  at  the  inn,  but  it  was 
over-rich  in  waiters  and  large  rooms,  to  be  exactly  to  our 
taste,  though  quite  in  harmony  with  the  neighbourhood. 
Before  dinner  we  went  into  the  Duke's  pleasure-grounds, 
which  are  extensive,  and  of  course  command  a  variety  of 
lively  and  interesting  views.  Walked  through  avenues  of 
tall  beech-trees,  and  observed  some  that  we  thought 
even  the  tallest  we  had  ever  seen  ;  but  they  were  all 
scantily  covered  with  leaves,  and  the  leaves  exceedingly 
small — indeed,  some  of  them,  in  the  most  exposed  situa- 
tions, were  almost  bare  as  if  it  had  been  winter.  Travel- 
lers who  wish  to  view  the  inside  of  the  castle  send  in 
their  names,  and  the  Duke  appoints  the  time  of  their 
going  ;  but  we  did  not  think  that  what  we  should  see 
would  repay  us  for  the  trouble,  there  being  no  pictures, 
and  the  house,  which  I  believe  has  not  been  built  above 
half  a  century,  is  fitted  up  in  the  modern  style.  If  there 
had  been  any  reliques  of  the  ancient  costume  of  the  castle 
of  a  Highland  chieftain,  we  should  have  been  sorry  to 
have  passed  it. 

Sate  after  dinner  by  the  fireside  till  near  sunset,  for  it 
was  very  cold,  though  the  sun  shone  all  day.  At  the 
beginning  of  this  our  second  walk  we  passed  through  the 
town,  which  is  but  a  doleful  example  of  Scotch  filth.  The 
houses  are  plastered  or  rough-cast,  and  washed  yellow — 
well  built,  well  sized,  and  sash-windowed,  bespeaking  a 
connexion  with  the  Duke,  such  a  dependence  as  may  be 
expected  in  a  small  town  so  near  to  his  mansion ;  and 
indeed  he  seems  to  have  done  his  utmost  to  make  them 


128  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

comfortable,  according  to  our  English  notions  of  comfort  : 
they  are  fit  for  the  houses  of  people  living  decently  upon  a 
decent  trade;  but  the  windows  and  door-steads  were  as 
dirty  as  in  a  dirty  by-street  of  a  large  town,  making  a 
most  unpleasant  contrast  with  the  comely  face  of  the 
buildings  towards  the  water,  and  the  ducal  grandeur  and 
natural  festivity  of  the  scene.  Smoke  and  blackness  are 
the  wild  growth  of  a  Highland  hut :  the  mud  floors  cannot 
be  washed,  the  door-steads  are  trampled  by  cattle,  and  if 
the  inhabitants  be  not  very  cleanly  it  gives  one  little  pain ; 
but  dirty  people  living  in  two-storied  stone  houses,  with 
dirty  sash  windows,  are  a  melancholy  spectacle  anywhere, 
giving  the  notion  either  of  vice  or  the  extreme  of  wretched- 
ness. 

Keturning  through  the  town,  we  went  towards  the 
Castle,  and  entered  the  Duke's  grounds  by  a  porter's 
lodge,  following  the  carriage-road  through  the  park,  which 
is  prettily  scattered  over  with  trees,  and  slopes  gently 
towards  the  lake.  A  great  number  of  lime-trees  were 
growing  singly,  not  beautiful  in  their  shape,  but  I  men- 
tion them  for  their  resemblance  to  one  of  the  same  kind 
we  had  seen  in  the  morning,  which  formed  a  shade  as 
impenetrable  as  the  roof  of  any  house.  The  branches 
did  not  spread  far,  nor  any  one  branch  much  further  than 
another ;  on  the  outside  it  was  like  a  green  bush  shorn 
with  shears,  but  when  we  sate  upon  a  bench  under  it, 
looking  upwards,  in  the  middle  of  the  tree  we  could  not 
perceive  any  green  at  all ;  it  was  like  a  hundred  thousand 
magpies'  uests  clustered  and  matted  together,  the  twigs 
and  boughs  being  so  intertwined  that  neither  the  light  of 
the  mid-day  sun  nor  showers  of  hail  or  rain  could  pierce 
through  them.  The  lime-trees  on  the  lawn  resembled  this 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  129 

tree  both  in  shape  and  in  the  manner  of  intertwisting  their 
twigs,  but  they  were  much  smaller,  and  not  an  impene- 
trable shade. 

The  views  from  the  Castle  are  delightful.  Opposite  is  the 
lake,  girt  with  mountains,  or  rather  smooth  high  hills;  to  the 
left  appears  a  very  steep  rocky  hill,  called  Duniquoich  Hill, 
on  the  top  of  which  is  a  building  like  a  watch-tower;  it 
rises  boldly  and  almost  perpendicular  from  the  plain,  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  river  Arey,  that  runs  through  the 
grounds.  To  the  right  is  the  town,  overtopped  by  a  sort 
of  spire  or  pinnacle  of  the  church,  a  thing  unusual  in  Scot- 
land, except  in  the  large  towns,  and  which  would  often 
give  an  elegant  appearance  to  the  villages,  which,  from  the 
uniformity  of  the  huts,  and  the  frequent  want  of  tall  trees, 
they  seldom  exhibit. 

In  looking  at  an  extensive  prospect,  or  travelling  through 
a  large  vale,  the  Trough  of  the  Clyde  for  instance,  I  could 
not  help  thinking  that  in  England  there  would  have 
been  somewhere  a  tower  or  spire  to  warn  us  of  a  village 
lurking  under  the  covert  of  a  wood  or  bank,  or  to  point 
out  some  particular  spot  on  the  distant  hills  which  we 
might  look  at  with  kindly  feelings.  I  well  remember 
how  we  used  to  love  the  little  nest  of  trees  out  of 
which  Ganton  spire  rose  on  the  distant  Wolds  opposite 
to  the  windows  at  Gallow  Hill.  The  spire  of  Inverary  is 
not  of  so  beautiful  a  shape  as  those  of  the  English  churches, 
and,  not  being  one  of  a  class  of  buildings  which  is  under- 
stood at  once,  seen  near  or  at  a  distance,  is  a  less  interest- 
ing object ;  but  it  suits  well  with  the  outlandish  trimness 
of  the  buildings  bordering  on  the  water ;  indeed,  there  is 
no  one  thing  of  the  many  gathered  together  in  the  exten- 
sive circuit  of  the  basin  or  vale  of  Inverary,  that  is  not  in 

i 


130  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

harmony  with  the  effect  of  the  whole  place.  The  Castle  is 
built  of  a  beautiful  hewn  stone,  in  colour  resembling  our 
blue  slates.  The  author-tourists  have  quarrelled  with  the 
architecture  of  it,  but  we  did  not  find  much  that  we  were 
disposed  to  blame.  A  castle  in  a  deep  glen,  overlooking  a 
roaring  stream,  and  defended  by  precipitous  rocks,  is,  no 
doubt,  an  object  far  more  interesting;  but,  dropping  all 
ideas  of  danger  or  insecurity,  the  natural  retinue  in  our 
minds  of  an  ancient  Highland  chieftain, — take  a  Duke  of 
Argyle  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  let  him  have 
his  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  his  London  liveries,  and 
daughters  glittering  at  St.  James's,  and  I  think  you  will  be 
satisfied  with  his  present  mansion  in  the  Highlands,  which 
seems  to  suit  with  the  present  times  and  its  situation,  and 
that  is  indeed  a  noble  one  for  a  modern  Duke  of  the  moun- 
tainous district  of  Argyleshire,  with  its  bare  valleys,  its 
rocky  coasts,  and  sea  lochs. 

There  is  in  the  natural  endowments  of  Inverary  some- 
thing akin  to  every  feature  of  the  general  character  of  the 
county ;  yet  even  the  very  mountains  and  the  lake  itself 
have  a  kind  of  princely  festivity  in  their  appearance.  I 
do  not  know  how  to  communicate  the  feeling,  but  it  seemed 
as  if  it  were  no  insult  to  the  hills  to  look  on  them  as  the 
shield  and  enclosure  of  the  ducal  domain,  to  which  the 
water  might  delight  in  bearing  its  tribute.  The  hills  near 
the  lake  are  smooth,  so  smooth  that  they  might  have  been 
shaven  or  swept ;  the  shores,  too,  had  somewhat  of  the  same 
effect,  being  bare,  and  having  no  roughness,  no  woody 
points ;  yet  the  whole  circuit  being  very  large,  and  the  hills 
so  extensive,  the  scene  was  not  the  less  cheerful  and  festive, 
rejoicing  in  the  light  of  heaven.  Behind  the  Castle  the 
hills  are  planted  to  a  great  height,  and  the  pleasure-grounds 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND,  131 

extend  far  up  the  valley  of  Arey.  We  continued  our 
walk  a  short  way  along  the  river,  and  were  sorry  to  see  it 
stripped  of  its  natural  ornaments,  after  the  fashion  of  Mr. 
Brown,*  and  left  to  tell  its  tale — for  it  would  not  be  silent 
like  the  river  at  Blenheim — to  naked  fields  and  the  planted 
trees  on  the  hills.  We  were  disgusted  with  the  stables, 
outhouses,  or  farm-houses  in  different  parts  of  the  grounds 
behind  the  Castle :  they  were  broad,  out-spreading,  fantastic, 
and  unintelligible  buildings. 

Sate  in  the  park  till  the  moonlight  was  perceived  more 
than  the  light  of  day.  We  then  walked  near  the  town  by 
the  water-side.  I  observed  that  the  children  who  were 
playing  did  not  speak  Erse,  but  a  much  worse  English 
than  is  spoken  by  those  Highlanders  whose  common  lan- 
guage is  the  Erse.  I  went  into  the  town  to  purchase  tea 
and  sugar  to  carry  with  us  on  our  journey.  We  were 
tired  when  we  returned  to  the  inn,  and  went  to  bed 
directly  after  tea.  My  room  was  at  the  very  top  of  the 
house — one  flight  of  steps  after  another! — but  when  I  drew 
back  the  curtains  of  my  window  I  was  repaid  for  the  trouble 
of  panting  up-stairs  by  one  of  the  most  splendid  moonlight 
prospects  that  can  be  conceived  :  the  whole  circuit  of  the 
hills,  the  Castle,  the  two  bridges,  the  tower  on  Duniquoich 
Hill,  and  the  lake  with  many  boats — fit  scene  for  summer 
midnight  festivities !  I  should  have  liked  to  have  seen  a 
bevy  of  Scottish  ladies  sailing,  with  music,  in  a  gay  barge. 
William,  to  whom  I  have  read  this,  tells  me  that  I  have 
used  the  very  words  of  Browne  of  Ottery,  Coleridge's  fellow- 
townsman  : — 

'  As  I  have  seen  when  on  the  breast  of  Thames 
A  heavenly  bevy  of  sweet  English  dames, 
*  '  Capability '  Brown. 


132  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

In  some  calm  evening  of  delightful  May, 
With  music  give  a  farewell  to  the  day, 
Or  as  they  would  (with  an  admired  tone) 
Greet  night's  ascension  to  her  ebon  throne.' 

BROWNE'S  Britannia's  Pastorals. 

Wednesday,  August  31st. — We  had  a  long  day's  journey 
before  us,  without  a  regular  baiting-place  on  the  road,  so 
we  breakfasted  at  Inverary,  and  did  not  set  off  till  nine 
o'clock,  having,  as  usual,  to  complain  of  the  laziness  of  the 
servants.  Our  road  was  up  the  valley  behind  the  Castle, 
the  same  we  had  gone  along  the  evening  before.  Further 
up,  though  the  plantations  on  the  hills  are  noble,  the  valley 
was  cold  and  naked,  wanting  hedgerows  and  comfortable 
houses.  We  travelled  several  miles  under  the  plantations, 
the  vale  all  along  seeming  to  belong  almost  exclusively  to 
the  Castle.  It  might  have  been  better  distinguished  and 
adorned,  as  we  thought,  by  neater  farm-houses  and  cottages 
than  are  common  in  Scotland,  and  snugger  fields  with  warm 
hedgerows,  at  the  same  time  testifying  as  boldly  its  ad- 
herence to  the  chief. 

At  that  point  of  the  valley  where  the  pleasure-grounds 
appear  to  end,  we  left  our  horse  at  a  cottage  door,  and 
turned  a  few  steps  out  of  the  road  to  see  a  waterfall, 
which  roared  so  loud  that  we  could  not  have  gone  by 
without  looking  about  for  it,  even  if  we  had  not  known 
that  there  was  one  near  Inverary.  The  waterfall  is 
not  remarkable  for  anything  but  the  good  taste  with 
which  it  has  been  left  to  itself,  though  there  is  a  pleasure- 
road  from  the  Castle  to  it.  As  we  went  further  up  the 
valley  the  roads  died  away,  and  it  became  an  ordinary 
Scotch  glen,  the  poor  pasturage  of  the  hills  creeping  down 
into  the  valley,  where  it  was  little  better  for  the  shelter, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  133 

I  mean  little  greener  than  on  the  hill-sides;  but  a  man 
must  be  of  a  churlish  nature  if,  with  a  mind  free  to  look 
about,  he  should  not  find  such  a  glen  a  pleasing  place  to 
travel  through,  though  seeing  little  but  the  busy  brook, 
with  here  and  there  a  bush  or  tree,  and  cattle  pasturing 
near  the  thinly-scattered  dwellings.  But  we  came  to  one 
spot  which  I  cannot  forget,  a  single  green  field  at  the  junc- 
tion of  another  brook  with  the  Arey,  a  peninsula  sur- 
rounded with  a  close  row  of  trees,  which  overhung  the 
streams,  and  under  their  branches  we  could  just  see  a  neat 
white  house  that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  field  enclosed 
by  the  trees.  Before  us  was  nothing  but  bare  hills,  and 
the  road  through  the  bare  glen.  A  person  who  has  not 
travelled  in  Scotland  can  scarcely  imagine  the  pleasure  we 
have  had  from  a  stone  house,  though  fresh  from  the  work- 
men's hands,  square  and  sharp ;  there  is  generally  such  an 
appearance  of  equality  in  poverty  through  the  long  glens 
of  Scotland,  giving  the  notion  of  savage  ignorance — 
no  house  better  than  another,  and  barns  and  houses 
all  alike.  This  house  had,  however,  other  recommenda- 
tions of  its  own ;  even  in  the  fertile  parts  of  Somerset- 
shire it  would  have  been  a  delicious  spot;  here,  "Mid 
mountain  wild  set  like  a  little  nest,'  it  was  a  resting-place 
for  the  fancy,  and  to  this  day  I  often  think  of  it,  the  cot- 
tage and  its  green  covert,  as  an  image  of  romance,  a  place 
of  which  I  have  the  same  sort  of  knowledge  as  of  some  of 
the  retirements,  the  little  valleys,  described  so  livelily  by 
Spenser  in  his  Fairy  Queen. 

We  travelled  on,  the  glen  now  becoming  entirely  bare. 
Passed  a  miserable  hut  on  a  naked  hill-side,  not  far  from 
the  road,  where  we  were  told  by  a  man  who  came  out  of 
it  that  we  might  refresh  ourselves  with  a  dram  of  whisky. 


134  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Went  over  the  hill,  and  saw  nothing  remarkable  till  we 
came  in  view  of  Loch  Awe,  a  large  lake  far  below  us, 
among  high  mountains — one  very  large  mountain  right 
opposite,  which  we  afterwards  found  was  called  Cruachan. 
The  day  was  pleasant — sunny  gleams  and  a  fresh  breeze  ; 
the  lake — we  looked  across  it — as  bright  as  silver,  which 
made  the  islands,  three  or  four  in  number,  appear  very 
green.  We  descended  gladly,  invited  by  the  prospect 
before  us,  travelling  downwards,  along  the  side  of  the  hill, 
above  a  deep  glen,  woody  towards  the  lower  part  near  the 
brook ;  the  hills  on  all  sides  were  high  and  bare,  and  not 
very  stony :  it  made  us  think  of  the  descent  from  Newlands 
into  Buttermere,  though  on  a  wider  scale,  and  much  inferior 
in  simple  majesty. 

After  walking  down  the  hill  a  long  way  we  came  to  a 
bridge,  under  which  the  water  dashed  through  a  dark 
channel  of  rocks  among  trees,  the  lake  being  at  a  consider- 
able distance  below,  with  cultivated  lands  between.  Close 
upon  the  bridge  was  a  small  hamlet,*  a  few  houses  near 
together,  and  huddled  up  in  trees — a  very  sweet  spot,  the 
only  retired  village  we  had  yet  seen  which  was  character- 
ized by  '  beautiful '  wildness  with  sheltering  warmth.  We 
had  been  told  at  Inverary  that  we  should  come  to  a  place 
where  we  might  give  our  horse  a  feed  of  corn,  and  found 
on  inquiry  that  there  was  a  little  public-house  here,  or 
rather  a  hut '  where  they  kept  a  dram.'  It  was  a  cottage, 
like  all  the  rest,  without  a  sign-board.  The  woman  of  the 
house  helped  to  take  the  horse  out  of  harness,  and,  being 
hungry,  we  asked  her  if  she  could  make  uS  some  porridge, 
to  which  she  replied  that  'we  should  get  that,'  and  I 
followed  her  into  the  house,  and  sate  over  her  hearth  while 
*  Qiwere,  Cladich.—  Ed. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  135 

she  was  making  it.  As  to  fire,  there  was  little  sign  of  it, 
save  the  smoke,  for  a  long  time,  she  having  no  fuel  but 
green  wood,  and  no  bellows  but  her  breath.  My  eyes 
smarted  exceedingly,  but  the  woman  seemed  so  kind  and 
cheerful  that  I  was  willing  to  endure  it  for  the  sake  of 
warming  my  feet  in  the  ashes  and  talking  to  her.  The  fire 
was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  crook  being  suspended 
from  a  cross-beam,  and  a  hole  left  at  the  top  for  the  smoke 
to  find  its  way  out  by :  it  was  a  rude  Highland  hut, 
unadulterated  by  Lowland  fashions,  but  it  had  not  the 
elegant  shape  of  the  ferry-house  at  Loch  Ketterine,  and 
the  fire,  being  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  could  not  be  such 
a  snug  place  to  draw  to  on  a  winter's  night. 

We  had  a  long  afternoon  before  us,  with  only  eight  miles 
to  travel  to  Dalmally,  and,  having  been  told  that  a  ferry-boat 
was  kept  at  one  of  the  islands,  we  resolved  to  call  for  it,  and 
row  to  the  island,  so  we  went  to  the  top  of  an  eminence,  and 
the  man  who  was  with  us  set  some  children  to  work  to  gather 
sticks  and  withered  leaves  to  make  a  smoky  fire — a  signal 
for  the  boatman,  whose  hut  is  on  a  flat  green  island,  like  a 
sheep  pasture,  without  trees,  and  of  a  considerable  size  : 
the  man  told  us  it  was  a  rabbit-warren.  There  were  other 
small  islands,  on  one  of  which  was  a  ruined  house,  fortifi- 
cation, or  small  castle  :  we  could  not  learn  anything  of  its 
history,  only  a  girl  told  us  that  formerly  gentlemen  lived 
in  such  places.  Immediately  from  the  water's  edge  rose 
the  mountain  Cruachan  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake ;  it 
is  weedy  near  the  water  and  craggy  above,  with  deep 
hollows  on  the  surface.  We  thought  it  the  grandest  moun- 
tain we  had  seen,  and  on  saying  to  the  man  who  was  with 
us  that  it  was  a  fine  mountain,  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  *  it  is  an 
excellent  mountain,'  adding  that  it  was  higher  than  Ben 


13C  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Lomond,  and  then  told  us  some  wild  stories  of  the  enormous 
profits  it  brought  to  Lord  Breadalbane,  its  lawful  owner. 
The  shape  of  Loch  Awe  is  very  remarkable,  its  outlet  being 
at  one  side,  and  only  about  eight  miles  from  the  head,  and 
the  whole  lake  twenty-four  miles  in  length.  We  looked 
with  longing  after  that  branch  of  it  opposite  to  us  out  of 
which  the  water  issues  :  it  seemed  almost  like  a  river  gliding 
under  steep  precipices.  What  we  saw  of  the  larger  branch, 
or  what  might  be  called  the  body  of  the  lake,  was  less  pro- 
mising, the  banks  being  merely  gentle  slopes,  with  not  very 
high  mountains  behind,  and  the  ground  moorish  and  cold. 
The  children,  after  having  collected  fuel  for  our  fire, 
began  to  play  on  the  green  hill  where  we  stood,  as  heedless 
as  if  we  had  been  trees  or  stones,  and  amused  us  exceed- 
ingly with  their  activity :  they  wrestled,  rolled  down  the 
hill,  pushing  one  another  over  and  over  again,  laughing, 
screaming,  and  chattering  Erse :  they  were  all  without 
shoes  and  stockings,  which,  making  them  fearless  of  hurt- 
ing or  being  hurt,  gave  a  freedom  to  the  action  of  their 
limbs  which  I  never  saw  in  English  children :  they  stood 
upon  one  another,  body,  breast,  or  face,  or  any  other  part ; 
sometimes  one  was  uppermost,  sometimes  another,  and 
sometimes  they  rolled  all  together,  so  that  we  could  not 
know  to  which  body  this  leg  or  that  arm  belonged.  We 
waited,  watching  them,  till  we  were  assured  that  the  boat- 
man had  noticed  our  signal. — By  the  bye,  if  we  had  received 
proper  directions  at  Loch  Lomond,  on  our  journey  to  Loch 
Ketterine,  we  should  have  made  our  way  down  the  lake  till 
we  had  come  opposite  to  the  ferryman's  house,  where  there 
is  a  hut,  and  the  people  who  live  there  are  accustomed  to 
call  him  by  the  same  signal  as  here.  Luckily  for  us  we 
were  not  so  well  instructed,  for  we  should  have  missed  the 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  137 

pleasure  of  receiving  the  kindness  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Macfar- 
lane  and  their  family. 

A  young  woman  who  wanted  to  go  to  the  island  accom- 
panied us  to  the  water-side.  The  walk  was  pleasant,  through 
fields  with  hedgerows,  the  greenest  fields  we  had  seen  in 
Scotland ;  but  we  were  obliged  to  return  without  going  to 
the  island.  The  poor  man  had  taken  his  boat  to  another 
place,  and  the  waters  were  swollen  so  that  we  could  not  go 
close  to  the  shore,  and  show  ourselves  to  him,  nor  could  we 
make  him  hear  by  shouting.  On  our  return  to  the  public- 
house  we  asked  the  woman  what  we  should  pay  her,  and 
were  not  a  little  surprised  when  she  answered,  '  Three  shil- 
lings.' Our  horse  had  had  a  sixpenny  feed  of  miserable 
corn,  not  worth  threepence ;  the  rest  of  the  charge  was  for 
skimmed  milk,  oat-bread,  porridge,  and  blue  milk  cheese  : 
we  told  her  it  was  far  too  much ;  and,  giving  her  half-a- 
crown,  departed.  I  was  sorry  she  had  made  this  unreason- 
able demand,  because  we  had  liked  the  woman,  and  we  had 
before  been  so  well  treated  in  the  Highland  cottages ;  but, 
on  thinking  more  about  it,  I  satisfied  myself  that  it  was  no 
scheme  to  impose  upon  us,  for  she  was  contented  with  the 
half-crown,  and  would,  I  daresay,  have  been  so  with  two 
shillings,  if  we  had  offered  it  her  at  first.  Not  being  accus- 
tomed to  fix  a  price  upon  porridge  and  milk,  to  such  as  we, 
at  least,  when  we  asked  her  she  did  not  know  what  to  say ; 
but,  seeing  that  we  were  travelling  for  pleasure,  no  doubt 
she  concluded  we  were  rich,  and  that  what  was  a  small  gain 
to  her  could  be  no  great  loss  to  us. 

When  we  had  gone  a  little  way  we  saw  before  us  a 
young  man  with  a  bundle  over  his  shoulder,  hung  on  a 
stick,  bearing  a  great  boy  on  his  back  :  seeing  that  they 
were  travellers,  we  offered  to  take  the  boy  on  the  car, 


133  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

to  which  the  man  replied  that  he  should  be  more  than 
thankful,  and  set  him  up  beside  me.  They  had  walked 
from  Glasgow,  and  that  morning  from  Inverary;  the 
boy  was  only  six  years  old,  'But,'  said  his  father,  'he 
is  a  stout  walker,'  and  a  fine  fellow  he  was,  smartly 
dressed  in  tight  clean  clothes  and  a  nice  round  hat :  he 
was  going  to  stay  with  his  grandmother  at  Dalmally.  I 
found  him  good  company ;  though  I  could  not  draw  a  single 
word  out  of  him,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  his  happiness 
gleaming  through  the  shy  glances  of  his  healthy  countenance. 
Passed  a  pretty  chapel  by  the  lake-side,  and  an  island  with 
a  farm-house  upon  it,  and  corn  and  pasture  fields ;  but,  as 
we  went  along,  we  had  frequent  reason  to  regret  the  want 
of  English  hedgerows  and  English  culture ;  for  the  ground 
was  often  swampy  or  moorish  near  the  lake  where  com- 
fortable dwellings  among  green  fields  might  have  been. 
When  we  came  near  to  the  end  of  the  lake  we  had  a  steep 
hill  to  climb,  so  William  and  I  walked ;  and  we  had  such 
confidence  in  our  horse  that  we  were  not  afraid  to  leave 
the  car  to  his  guidance  with  the  child  in  it ;  we  were  soon, 
however,  alarmed  at  seeing  him  trot  up  the  hill  a  long  way 
before  us ;  the  child,  having  raised  himself  up  upon  the 
seat,  was  beating  him  as  hard  as  he  could  with  a  little  stick 
which  he  carried  in  his  hand ;  and  when  he  saw  our  eyes 
were  on  him  he  sate  down,  I  believe  very  sorry  to  resign 
his  office :  the  horse  slackened  his  pace,  and  no  accident 
happened. 

When  we  had  ascended  half-way  up  the  hill,  directed  by 
the  man,  I  took  a  nearer  footpath,  and  at  the  top  came  in 
view  of  a  most  impressive  scene,  a  ruined  castle  on  an  island 
almost  in  the  middle  of  the  last  compartment  of  the  lake, 
backed  by  a  mountain  cove,  down  which  came  a  roaring 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  139 

stream.  The  castle  occupied  every  foot  of  the  island  that 
was  visible  to  us,  appearing  to  rise  out  of  the  water ;  mists 
rested  upon  the  mountain  side,  with  spots  of  sunshine  be- 
tween ;  there  was  a  mild  desolation  in  the  low  grounds,  a 
solemn  grandeur  in  the  mountains,  and  the  castle  was  wild, 
yet  stately,  not  dismantled  of  its  turrets,  nor  the  walls 
broken  down,  though  completely  in  ruin.  After  having 
stood  some  minutes  I  joined  William  on  the  high  road,  and 
both  wishing  to  stay  longer  near  this  place,  we  requested 
the  man  to  drive  his  little  boy  on  to  Dalmally,  about  two 
miles  further,  and  leave  the  car  at  the  inn.  He  told  us 
that  the  ruin  was  called  Kilchurn  Castle,  that  it  belonged 
to  Lord  Breadalbane,  and  had  been  built  by  one  of  the 
ladies  of  that  family  for  her  defence  during  her  Lord's  ab- 
sence at  the  Crusades,  for  which  purpose  she  levied  a  tax  of 
seven  years'  rent  upon  her  tenants  ;*  he  said  that  from  that 
side  of  the  lake  it  did  not  appear,  in  very  dry  weather,  to 
stand  upon  an  island ;  but  that  it  was  possible  to  go  over 
to  it  without,  being  wet-shod.  We  were  very  lucky  in  see- 
ing it  after  a  great  flood;  for  its  enchanting  effect  was 
chiefly  owing  to  its  situation  in  the  lake,  a  decayed  palace 
rising  out  of  the  plain  of  waters !  I  have  called  it  a  palace, 
for  such  feeling  it  gave  to  me,  though  having  been  built  as 
a  place  of  defence,  a  castle  or  fortress.  We  turned  again 
and  reascended  the  hill,  and  sate  a  long  time  in  the  middle 
of  it  looking  on  the  castle  and  the  huge  mountain  cove  op- 
posite, and  William,  addressing  himself  to  the  ruin,  poured 
out  these  verses  : — 

Child  of  loud-throated  War !  the  mountain  stream 
Koars  in  thy  hearing ;  but  thy  hour  of  rest 
Is  come,  and  thou  art  silent  in  thy  age.t 
*  Not  very  probable.  t  See  Appendix  C. 


140  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

We  walked  up  the  hill  again,  and,  looking  down  the  vale, 
had  a  fine  view  of  the  lake  and  islands,  resembling  the 
views  down  Windermere,  though  much  less  rich.  Our 
walk  to  Dalmally  was  pleasant :  the  vale  makes  a  turn  to 
the  right,  beyond  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  the  village  of 
Dalmally,  which  is,  in  fact,  only  a  few  huts,  the  manse  or 
minister's  house,  the  chapel,  and  the  inn,  stands  near  the 
river,  which  flows  into  the  head  of  the  lake.  The  whole 
vale  is  very  pleasing,  the  lower  part  of  the  hill-sides  being 
sprinkled  with  thatched  cottages,  cultivated  ground  in  small 
patches  near  them,  which  evidently  belonged  to  the  cot- 
tages. 

We  were  overtaken  by  a  gentleman  who  rode  on  a  beau- 
tiful white  pony,  like  Lilly,  and  was  followed  by  his  servant, 
a  Highland  boy,  on  another  pony,  a  little  creature,  not 
much  bigger  than  a  large  mastiff,  on  which  were  slung  a 
pair  of  crutches  and  a  tartan  plaid.  The  gentleman  entered 
into  conversation  with  us,  and  on  our  telling  him  that  we 
were  going  to  Glen  Coe,  he  advised  us,  instead  of  proceed- 
ing directly  to  Tyndrum,  the  next  stage,  to  go  round  by 
the  outlet  of  Loch  Awe  to  Loch  Etive,  and  thence  to  Glen 
Coe.  We  were  glad  to  change  our  plan,  for  we  wanted 
much  to  see  more  of  Loch  Awe,  and  he  told  us  that  the 
whole  of  the  way  by  Loch  Etive  was  pleasant,  and  the 
road  to  Tyndrum  as  dreary  as  possible ;  indeed,  we  could 
see  it  at  that  time  several  miles  before  us  upon  the  side  of 
a  bleak  mountain ;  and  he  said  that  there  was  nothing  but 
moors  and  mountains  all  the  way.  We  reached  the  inn  a 
little  before  sunset,  ordered  supper,  and  I  walked  out. 
Crossed  a  bridge  to  look  more  nearly  at  the  parsonage-house 
and  the  chapel,  which  stands  upon  a  bank  close  to  the 
river,  a  pretty  stream  overhung  in  some  parts  by  trees. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND,  141 

The  vale  is  very  pleasing ;  but,  like  all  the  other  Scotch 
vales  we  had  yet  seen,  it  told  of  its  kinship  with  the  moun- 
tains and  of  poverty  or  some  neglect  on  the  part  of  man. 

Thursday,  September  1st. — "We  had  been  attended  at 
supper  by  a  civil  boy,  whom  we  engaged  to  rouse  us  at  six 
o'clock,  and  to  provide  us  each  a  basin  of  milk  and  bread, 
and  have  the  car  ready ;  all  which  he  did  punctually,  and 
we  were  off  in  good  time.  The  morning  was  not  unpleasant, 
though  rather  cold,  and  we  had  some  fear  of  rain.  Crossed 
the  bridge,  and  passed  by  the  manse  and  chapel,  our  road 
carrying  us  back  again  in  the  direction  we  had  come ;  but 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  Passed  close  to  many  of 
the  houses  we  had  seen  on  the  hill-side,  which  the  lame 
gentleman  had  told  us  belonged  to  Lord  Breadalbane,  and 
were  attached  to  little  farms,  or  '  crofts,'  as  he  called  them. 
Lord  Breadalbane  had  lately  laid  out  a  part  of  his  estates  in 
this  way  as  an  experiment,  in  the  hope  of  preventing  dis- 
content and  emigration.  We  were  sorry  we  had  not  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  into  these  cottages,  and  of  learning- 
how  far  the  people  were  happy  or  otherwise.  The  dwell- 
ings certainly  did  not  look  so  comfortable  when  we  were 
near  to  them  as  from  a  distance  ;  but  this  might  be  chiefly 
owing  to  what  the  inhabitants  did  not  feel  as  an  evil — the 
dirt  about  the  doors.  We  saw,  however — a  sight  always 
painful  to  me — two  or  three  women,  each  creeping  after  her 
single  cow,  while  it  was  feeding  on  the  slips  of  grass 
between  the  corn-grounds.  Went  round  the  head  of  the 
lake,  and  onwards  close  to  the  lake-side.  Kilchurn  Castle 
was  always  interesting,  though  not  so  grand  as  seen  from 
the  other  side,  with  its  own  mountain  cove  and  roaring 
stream.  It  combined  with  the  vale  of  Dalmally  and  the 


142  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

distant  hills — a  beautiful  scene,  yet  overspread  with  a  gentle 
desolation.  As  we  went  further  down  we  lost  sight  of  the 
vale  of  Dalmally.  The  castle,  which  we  often  stopped  to 
look  back  upon,  was  very  beautiful  seen  in  combination 
with  the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake — perhaps  a  little  bay,  a 
tuft  of  trees,  or  a  slope  of  the  hill.  Travelled  under  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  Cruachan,  along  an  excellent  road, 
having  the  lake  close  to  us  on  our  left,  woods  overhead, 
and  frequent  torrents  tumbling  down  the  hills.  The  dis- 
tant views  across  the  lake  were  not  peculiarly  interesting 
after  we  were  out  of  sight  of  Kilchurn  Castle,  the  lake  being 
wide,  and  the  opposite  shore  not  rich,  and  those  moun- 
tains which  we  could  see  were  not  high. 

Came  opposite  to  the  village  where  we  had  dined  the 
day  before,  and,  losing  sight  of  the  body  of  the  lake,  pur- 
sued the  narrow  channel  or  pass,*  which  is,  I  believe,  three 
miles  long,  out  of  which  issues  the  river  that  flows  into 
Loch  Etive.  We  were  now  enclosed  between  steep  hills, 
on  the  opposite  side  entirely  bare,  on  our  side  bare  or 
woody ;  the  branch  of  the  lake  generally  filling  the  whole 
area  of  the  vale.  It  was  a  pleasing,  solitary  scene ;  the 
long  reach  of  naked  precipices  on  the  other  side  rose 
directly  out  of  the  water,  exceedingly  steep,  not  rugged  or 
rocky,  but  with  scanty  sheep  pasturage  and  large  beds  of 
small  stones,  purple,  dove-coloured,  or  red,  such  as  are  called 
Screes  in  Cumberland  and  Westmoreland.  These  beds,  or 
rather  streams  of  stones,  appeared  as  smooth  as  the  turf 
itself,  nay,  I  might  say,  as  soft  as  the  feathers  of  birds, 
which  they  resembled  in  colour.  There  was  no  building 
on  either  side  of  the  water ;  in  many  parts  only  just  room 
for  the  road,  and  on  the  other  shore  no  footing,  as  it  might 
*  The  Pass  of  Awe.— Ed. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  143 

seem,  for  any  creature  larger  than  the  mountain  sheep,  and 
they,  in  treading  amongst  the  shelving  stones,  must  often 
send  them  down  into  the  lake  below. 

After  we  had  wound  for  some  time  through  the  valley, 
having  met  neither  foot-traveller,  horse,  nor  cart,  we  started 
at  the  sight  of  a  single  vessel,  just  as  it  turned  round  the 
point  of  a  hill,  coming  into  the  reach  of  the  valley  where 
we  were.  She  floated  steadily  through  the  middle  of  the 
water,  with  one  large  sail  spread  out,  full  swollen  by  the 
breeze,  that  blew  her  right  towards  us.  I  cannot  express 
what  romantic  images  this  vessel  brought  along  with  her — 
how  much  more  beautiful  the  mountains  appeared,  the 
lake  how  much  more  graceful.  There  was  one  man  on 
board,  who  sate  at  the  helm,  and  he,  having  no  companion, 
made  the  boat  look  more  silent  than  if  we  could  not  have 
seen  him.  I  had  almost  said  the  ship,  for  on  that  narrow 
water  it  appeared  as  large  as  the  ships  which  I  have 
watched  sailing  out  of  a  harbour  of  the  sea.  A  little  fur- 
ther on  we  passed  a  stone  hut  by  the  lake-side,  near  which 
were  many  charcoal  sacks,  and  we  conjectured  that  the 
vessel  had  been  depositing  charcoal  brought  from  other 
parts  of  Loch  Awe  to  be  carried  to  the  iron-works  at  Loch 
Etive.  A  little  further  on  we  came  to  the  end  of  the  lake, 
but  where  exactly  it  ended  was  not  easy  to  determine,  for 
the  river  was  as  broad  as  the  lake,  and  we  could  only  say 
when  it  became  positively  a  river  by  the  rushing  of  the 
water.  It  is,  indeed,  a  grand  stream,  the  quantity  of 
water  being  very  large,  frequently  forming  rapids,  and 
always  flowing  very  quickly;  but  its  greatness  is  short- 
lived, for,  after  a  course  of  three  miles,  it  is  lost  in  the 
great  waters  of  Loch  Etive,  a  sea  loch. 

Crossed  a  bridge,  and  climbing  a  hill  towards  Taynuilt, 


144  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

our  baiting-place,  we  saw  a  hollow  to  the  right  below  us, 
through  which  the  river  continued  its  course  between  rocks 
and  steep  banks  of  wood.  William  turned  aside  to  look 
into  .the  dell,  but  I  was  too  much  tired.  We  had  left  it, 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  behind,  an  open  river,  the  hills, 
enclosing  the  branch  of  the  lake,  having  settled  down  into 
irregular  slopes.  We  were  glad  when  we  reached  Taynuilt, 
a  village  of  huts,  with  a  chapel  and  one  stone  house,  which 
was  the  inn.  It  had  begun  to  rain,  and  I  was  almost 
benumbed  with  the  cold,  besides  having  a  bad  headache  ; 
so  it  rejoiced  me  to  see  kind  looks  on  the  landlady's  face, 
and  that  she  was  willing  to  put  herself  in  a  bustle  for  our 
comfort ;  we  had  a  good  fire  presently,  and  breakfast  was 
set  out — eggs,  preserved  gooseberries,  excellent  cream, 
cheese,  and  butter,  but  no  wheat  bread,  and  the  oaten 
cakes  were  so  hard  I  could  not  chew  them.  We  wished  to 
go  upon  Loch  Etive ;  so,  having  desired  the  landlady  to 
prepare  a  fowl  for  supper,  and  engaged  beds,  which  she 
promised  us  willingly — a  proof  that  we  were  not  in  the 
great  road — we  determined  to  find  our  way  to  the  lake  and 
endeavour  to  procure  a  boat.  It  rained  heavily,  but  we 
went  on,  hoping  the  sky  would  clear  up. 

Walked  through  unenclosed  fields,  a  sort  of  half-desolate 
country ;  but  when  we  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  river 
which  issues  out  of  Loch  Awe,  and  which  we  had  to  cross 
by  a  ferry,  looking  up  that  river  we  saw  that  the  vale  down 
which  it  flowed  was  richly  wooded  and  beautiful. 

We  were  now  among  familiar  fireside  names.  We  could 
see  the  town  of  Buna  we,  a  place  of  which  the  old  woman 
with  whom  William  lodged  ten  years  at  Hawkshead  used 
to  tell  tales  half  as  long  as  an  ancient  romance.  It  is  a 
small  village  or  port  on  the  same  side  of  Loch  Etive  on 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  145 

which  we  stood,  and  at  a  little  distance  is  a  house  built  by 
a  Mr.  Knott  of  Coniston  Water-head,  a  partner  in  the  iron- 
foundry  at  Bunawe,  in  the  service  of  whose  family  the  old 
woman  had  spent  her  youth.  It  was  an  ugly  yellow-daubed 
building,  staring  this  way  and  that,  but  William  looked  at 
it  with  pleasure  for  poor  Ann  Tyson's  sake.13  We  hailed 
the  ferry-boat,  and  a  little  boy  came  to  fetch  us ;  he  rowed 
up  against  the  stream  with  all  his  might  for  a  considerable 
way,  and  then  yielding  to  it,  the  boat  was  shot  towards 
the  shore  almost  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow.  It  was 
pleasing  to  observe  the  dexterity  with  which  the  lad  man- 
aged his  oars,  glorying  in  the  appearance  of  danger — for  he 
observed  us  watching  him,  and  afterwards,  while  he  con- 
veyed us  over,  his  pride  redoubled  ;  for  my  part,  I  was 
completely  dizzy  with  the  swiftness  of  the  motion. 

We  could  not  have  a  boat  from  the  ferry,  but  were  told 
that  if  we  would  walk  to  a  house  half  a  mile  up  the  river, 
we  had  a  chance  of  getting  one.  I  went  a  part  of  the  way 
with  William,  and  then  sate  down  under  the  umbrella  near 
some  houses.  A  woman  came  out  to  talk  with  me,  and 
pressed  me  to  take  shelter  in  her  house,  which  I  refused, 
afraid  of  missing  William.  She  eyed  me  with  extreme 
curiosity,  asking  fifty  questions  respecting  the  object  of  our 
journey.  She  told  me  that  it  rained  most  parts  of  the  year 
there,  and  that  there  was  no  chance  of  fine  weather  that 
day  ;  and  I  believe  when  William  came  to  tell  me  that  we 
could  have  a  boat,  she  thought  I  was  half  crazed.  We 
went  down  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and,  after  having  sate 
some  time  under  a  wall,  the  boatman  came  to  us,  and  we 
went  upon  the  water.  At  first  it  did  not  rain  heavily,  and 
the  air  was  not  cold,  and  before  we  had  gone  far  we  re- 
joiced that  we  had  not  been  faint-hearted.  The  loch  is  of 

K 


146  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

a  considerable  width,  but  the  mountains  are  so  very  high 
that,  whether  we  were  close  under  them  or  looked  from 
one  shore  to  the  other,  they  maintained  their  dignity. 
I  speak  of  the  higher  part  of  the  loch,  above  the  town  of 
Bunawe  and  the  large  river,  for  downwards  they  are  but 
hills,  and  the  water  spreads  out  wide  towards  undetermined 
shores.  On  our  right  was  the  mountain  Cruachan,  rising 
directly  from  the  lake,  and  on  the  opposite  side  another 
mountain,  called  Ben  Durinish,  craggy,  and  exceedingly 
steep,  with  wild  wood  growing  among  the  rocks  and  stones. 
We  crossed  the  water,  which  was  very  rough  in  the 
middle,  but  calmer  near  the  shores,  and  some  of  the  rocky 
basins  and  little  creeks  among  the  rocks  were  as  still  as  a 
mirror,  and  they  were  so  beautiful  with  the  reflection  of 
the  orange-coloured  seaweed  growing  on  the  stones  or 
rocks,  that  a  child,  with  a  child's  delight  in  gay  colours, 
might  have  danced  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  them.  It 
never  ceased  raining,  and  the  tops  of  the  mountains  were 
concealed  by  mists,  but  as  long  as  we  could  see  across  the 
water  we  were  contented ;  for  though  little  could  be  seen 
of  the  true  shapes  and  permanent  appearances  of  the  moun- 
tains, we  saw  enough  to  give  us  the  most  exquisite  delight : 
the  powerful  lake  which  filled  the  large  vale,  roaring  tor- 
rents, clouds  floating  on  the  mountain  sides,  sheep  that 
pastured  there,  sea-birds  and  land-birds.  We  sailed  a  con- 
siderable way  without  coming  to  any  houses  or  cultivated 
fields.  There  was  no  horse-road  on  either  side  of  the  loch, 
but  a  person  on  foot,  as  the  boatman  told  us,  might  make 
his  way  at  the  foot  of  Ben  Durinish,  namely  on  that  side 
of  the  loch  on  which  we  were ;  there  was,  however,  not 
the  least  track  to  be  seen,  and  it  must  be  very  difficult  and 
laborious. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  147 

We  happened  to  say  that  we  were  going  to  Glen  Coe, 
which  would  be  the  journey  of  a  long  day  and  a  half, 
when  one  of  the  men,  pointing  to  the  head  of  the  loch, 
replied  that  if  we  were  there  we  should  be  but  an  hour's 
walk  from  Glen  Coe.  Though  it  continued  raining,  and 
there  was  no  hope  that  the  rain  would  cease,  we  could  not 
help  wishing  to  go  by  that  way  :  it  was  an  adventure ;  we 
were  not  afraid  of  trusting  ourselves  to  the  hospitality  of 
the  Highlanders,  and  we  wanted  to  give  our  horse  a  day's 
rest,  his  back  having  been  galled  by  the  saddle.  The 
owner  of  the  boat,  who  understood  English  much  better 
than  the  other  man,  his  helper,  said  he  would  make  inquiries 
about  the  road  at  a  farm-house  a  little  further  on.  He  was 
very  ready  to  talk  with  us,  and  was  rather  an  interesting 
companion ;  he  spoke  after  a  slow  and  solemn  manner,  in 
book  and  sermon  language  and  phrases  : 

"  A  stately  speech,  such  as  grave  livers  do  in  Scotland  use." 

When  we  came  to  the  farm-house  of  which  the  man  had 
spoken,  William  and  he  landed  to  make  the  necessary 
inquiries.  It  was  a  thatched  house  at  the  foot  of  the  high 
mountain  Ben  Durinish — a  few  patches  or  little  beds  of  corn 
belonging  to  it ;  but  the  spot  was  pastoral,  the  green  grass 
growing  to  the  walls  of  the  house.  The  dwelling-house 
was  distinguished  from  the  outer  buildings,  which  were 
numerous,  making  it  look  like  two  or  three  houses,  as  is 
common  in  Scotland,  by  a  chimney  and  one  small  window 
with  sash-panes ;  on  one  side  was  a  little  woody  glen,  with 
a  precipitous  stream  that  fell  into  the  bay,  which  was 
perfectly  still,  and  bordered  with  the  rich  orange-colour  re- 
flected from  the  sea-weed.  Cruachan,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  lake,  was  exceedingly  grand,  and  appeared  of  an 


143  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

enormous  height,  spreading  out  two  large  arms  that  made 
a  cove  down  which  fell  many  streams  swoln  by  the  rain, 
and  in  the  hollow  of  the  cove  were  some  huts  which  looked 
like  a  village.  The  top  of  the  mountain  was  concealed 
from  us  by  clouds,  and  the  mists  floated  high  and  low  upon 
the  sides  of  it. 

William  came  back  to  the  boat  highly  pleased  with 
the  cheerful  hospitality  and  kindness  of  the  woman  of 
the  house,  who  would  scarcely  permit  him  and  his  guide 
to  go  away  without  taking  some  refreshment.  She  was 
the  only  person  at  home,  so  they  could  not  obtain  the 
desired  information;  but  William  had  been  well  repaid 
for  the  trouble  of  landing;  indeed,  rainy  as  it  was,  I  re- 
gretted that  I  had  not  landed  also,  for  I  should  have  wished 
to  bear  away  in  my  memory  a  perfect  image  of  this  place, 
— the  view  from  the  doors,  as  well  as  the  simple  Highland 
comforts  and  contrivances  which  were  near  it.  I  think  I 
never  saw  a  retirement  that  would  have  so  completely 
satisfied  me,  if  I  had  wanted  to  be  altogether  shut  out  from 
the  world,  and  at  the  same  time  among  the  grandest  of  the 
works  of  God ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  mountains 
are  often  so  much  dignified  by  clouds,  mists,  and  other 
accidents  of  weather,  that  one  could  not  know  them  again 
in  the  full  sunshine  of  a  summer's  noon.  But,  whatever 
the  mountains  may  be  in  their  own  shapes,  the  farm-house, 
with  its  pastoral  grounds  and  corn  fields  won  from  the 
mountain,  its  warm  out-houses  in  irregular  stages  one  above 
another  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  the  rocks,  the  stream,  and 
sheltering  bay,  must  at  all  times  be  interesting  objects. 
The  household  boat  lay  at  anchor,  chained  to  a  rock,  which, 
like  the  whole  border  of  the  lake,  was  edged  with  sea- weed, 
and  some  fishing-nets  were  hung  upon  poles, — affecting 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  149 

images,  which  led  our  thoughts  out  to  the  wide  ocean,  yet 
made  these  solitudes  of  the  mountains  bear  the  impression 
of  greater  safety  and  more  deep  seclusion. 

The  rain  became  so  heavy  that  we  should  certainly  have 
turned  back  if  we  had  not  felt  more  than  usual  courage 
from  the  pleasure  we  had  enjoyed,  which  raised  hope  where 
none  was.  There  were  some  houses  a  little  higher  up, 
and  we  determined  to  go  thither  and  make  further  inquiries. 
We  could  now  hardly  see  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake, 
yet  continued  to  go  on,  and  presently  heard  some  people 
pushing  through  a  thicket  close  to  us,  on  which  the  boatman 
called  out,  'There 's  one  that  can  tell  us  something  about  the 
road  to  Glen  Coe,  for  he  was  born  there.'  We  looked  up 
and  saw  a  ragged,  lame  fellow,  followed  by  some  others, 
with  a  fishing-rod  over  his  shoulder;  and  he  was  making 
such  good  speed  through  the  boughs  that  one  might  have 
half  believed  he  was  the  better  for  his  lame  leg.  He  was 
the  head  of  a  company  of  tinkers,  who,  as  the  men  told  us, 
travel  with  their  fishing-rods  as  duly  as  their  hammers. 
On  being  hailed  by  us  the  whole  company  stopped ;  and 
their  lame  leader  and  our  boatmen  shouted  to  each  other 
in  Erse — a  savage  cry  to  our  ears,  in  that  lonely  and  romantic 
place.  We  could  not  learn  from  the  tinker  all  we  wished 
to  know,  therefore  when  we  came  near  to  the  houses  Wil- 
liam landed  again  with  the  owner  of  the  boat.  The  rain 
was  now  so  heavy  that  we  could  see  nothing  at  all — not 
even  the  houses  whither  William  was  going. 

We  had  given  up  all  thought  of  proceeding  further  at  that 
time,  but  were  desirous  to  know  how  far  that  road  to 
Glen  Coe  was  practicable  for  us.  They  met  with  an  in- 
telligent man,  who  was  at  work  with  others  in  a  hay  field, 
though  it  rained  so  heavily;  he  gave  them  the  information 


150  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

they  desired,  and  said  that  there  was  an  acquaintance  of 
his  between  that  place  and  Glen  Coe,  who,  he  had  no 
doubt,  would  gladly  accommodate  us  with  lodging  and 
anything  else  we  might  need.  When  William  returned 
to  the  boat  we  shaped  our  course  back  again  down  the 
water,  leaving  the  head  of  Loch  Etive  not  only  un- 
visited,  but  unseen — to  our  great  regret.  The  rain  was 
very  heavy;  the  wind  had  risen,  and  both  wind  and 
tide  were  against  us,  so  that  it  was  hard  labour  for  the 
boatmen  to  push  us  on.  They  kept  as  close  to  the  shore 
as  they  could,  to  be  under  the  wind ;  but  at  the  doubling 
of  many  of  the  rocky  points  the  tide  was  so  strong  that  it 
was  difficult  to  get  on  at  all,  and  I  was  sometimes  afraid 
that  we  should  be  dashed  against  the  rocks,  though  I 
believe,  indeed,  there  was  not  much  danger. 

Came  down  the  same  side  of  the  lake  under  Ben  Dur- 
inish,  and  landed  at  a  ferry-house  opposite  to  Bunawe, 
where  we  gave  the  men  a  glass  of  whisky ;  but  our  chief 
motive  for  landing  was  to  look  about  the  place,  which  had 
a  most  wild  aspect  at  that  time.  It  was  a  low  promontory, 
pushed  far  into  the  water,  narrowing  the  lake  exceedingly; 
in  the  obscurity  occasioned  by  the  mist  and  rain  it  appeared 
to  be  an  island;  it  was  stained  and  weatherbeaten,  a  rocky 
place,  seeming  to  bear  no  produce  but  such  as  might  be 
cherished  by  cold  and  storms,  lichens  or  the  incrustations 
of  sea  rocks.  We  rowed  right  across  the  water  to  the 
mouth  of  the  river  of  Loch  Awe,  our  boat  following  the 
ferry-boat  which  was  conveying  the  tinker  crew  to  the 
other  side,  whither  they  were  going  to  lodge,  as  the  men 
told  us,  in  some  kiln,  which  they  considered  as  their  right 
and  privilege — a  lodging  always  to  be  found  where  there 
was  any  arable  land — for  every  farm  has  its  kiln  to  dry  the 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  151 

corn  in  :  another  proof  of  the  wetness  of  the  climate.  The 
kilns  are  built  of  stone,  covered  in,  and  probably  as  good  a 
shelter  as  the  huts  in  which  these  Highland  vagrants  were 
born.  They  gather  sticks  or  heather  for  their  fire,  and,  as 
they  are  obstinate  beggars,  for  the  men  said  they  would 
not  be  denied,  they  probably  have  plenty  of  food  with  little 
other  trouble  than  that  of  wandering  in  search  of  it,  for 
their  smutty  faces  and  tinker  equipage  serve  chiefly  for  a 
passport  to  a  free  and  careless  life.  It  rained  very  heavily, 
and  the  wind  blew  when  we  crossed  the  lake,  and  their 
boat  and  ours  went  tilting  over  the  high  waves.  They 
made  a  romantic  appearance;  three  women  were  of  the 
party ;  two  men  rowed  them  over;  the  lame  fellow  sate  at 
one  end  of  the  boat,  and  his  companion  at  the  other,  each 
with  an  enormous  fishing-rod,  which  looked  very  graceful, 
something  like  masts  to  the  boat.  When  we  had  landed  at 
the  other  side  we  saw  them,  after  having  begged  at  the 
ferry-house,  strike  merrily  through  the  fields,  no  doubt 
betaking  themselves  to  their  shelter  for  the  night. 

We  were  completely  wet  when  we  reached  the  inn ;  the 
landlady  wanted  to  make  a  fire  for  me  up-stairs,  but  I  went 
into  her  own  parlour  to  undress,  and  her  daughter,  a  pretty 
little  girl,  who  could  speak  a  few  words  of  English,  waited 
on  me ;  I  rewarded  her  with  one  of  the  penny  books 
bought  at  Dumfries  for  Johnny,  with  which  she  was 
greatly  delighted.  We  had  an  excellent  supper — fresh 
salmon,  a  fowl,  gooseberries  and  cream,  and  potatoes;  good 
beds ;  and  the  next  morning  boiled  milk  and  bread,  and 
were  only  charged  seven  shillings  and  sixpence  for  the 
whole — horse,  liquor,  supper,  and  the  two  breakfasts.  We 
thought  they  had  made  a  mistake,  and  told  them  so — for 
it  was  only  just  half  as  much  as  we  had  paid  the  day 


152  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

before  at  Dalmally,  the  case  being  that  Dalmally  is  in  the 
main  road  of  the  tourists.  The  landlady  insisted  on  my 
bringing  away  a  little  cup  instead  of  our  tin  can,  which  she 
told  me  had  been  taken  from  the  car  by  some  children  :  we 
set  no  little  value  on  this  cup  as  a  memorial  of  the  good 
woman's  honesty  and  kindness,  and  hoped  to  have  brought 
it  home.  .  .  . 

Friday,  September  2d. — Departed  at  about  seven  o'clock 
this  morning,  having  to  travel  eight  miles  down  Loch  Etive, 
and  then  to  cross  a  ferry.  Our  road  was  at  first  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  the  lake,  and  out  of  sight  of 
it,  among  undulating  hills  covered  with  coppice  woods, 
resembling  the  country  between  Coniston  and  Winder-mere, 
but  it  afterwards  carried  us  close  to  the  water's  edge ;  and 
in  this  part  of  our  ride  we  were  disappointed.  We  knew 
that  the  high  mountains  were  all  at  the  head  of  the  lake, 
therefore  had  not  expected  the  same  awful  grandeur  which 
we  beheld  the  day  before,  and  perceived  by  glimpses ;  but 
the  gentleman  whom  we  met  with  at  Dalmally  had  told  us 
that  there  were  many  fine  situations  for  gentlemen's  seats 
on  this  part  of  the  lake,  which  had  made  us  expect  greater 
loveliness  near  the  shores,  and  better  cultivation.  It  is 
true  there  are  pleasant  bays,  with  grounds  prettily  sloping 
to  the  water,  and  coppice  woods,  where  houses  would  stand 
in  shelter  and  sun,  looking  on  the  lake ;  but  much  is  yet 
wanting — waste  lands  to  be  ploughed,  peat-mosses  drained, 
hedgerows  reared;  and  the  woods  demand  a  grant  of 
longer  life  than  is  now  their  privilege. 

But  after  we  had  journeyed  about  six  miles  a  beautiful 
scene  opened  upon  us.  The  morning  had  been  gloomy, 
and  at  this  time  the  sun  shone  out,  scattering  the  clouds. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  153 

We  looked  right  down  the  lake,  that  was  covered  with 
streams  of  dazzling  sunshine,  which  revealed  the  indentings 
of  the  dark  shores.  On  a  bold  promontory,  on  the  same 
side  of  the  loch  where  we  were,  stood  an  old  castle,  an 
irregular  tall  building,  not  without  majesty ;  and  beyond, 
with  leagues  of  water  between,  our  eyes  settled  upon  the 
island  of  Mull,  a  high  mountain,  green  in  the  sunshine, 
and  overcast  with  clouds, — an  object  as  inviting  to  the 
fancy  as  the  evening  sky  in  the  west,  and,  though  of  a  ter- 
restrial green,  almost  as  visionary.  We  saw  that  it  was  an 
island  of  the  sea,  but  were  unacquainted  with  its  name ;  it 
was  of  a  gem-like  colour,  and  as  soft  as  the  sky.  The  shores 
of  Loch  Etive,  in  their  moorish,  rocky  wildness,  their 
earthly  bareness,  as  they  lay  in  length  before  us,  produced 
a  contrast  which,  with  the  pure  sea,  the  brilliant  sunshine, 
the  long  distance,  contributed  to  the  aerial  and  romantic 
power  with  which  the  mountain  island  was  invested. 

Soon  after,  we  came  to  the  ferry.  The  boat  being  on 
the  other  shore,  we  had  to  wait  a  considerable  time,  though 
the  water  was  not  wide,  and  our  call  was  heard  immediately. 
The  boatmen  moved  with  surly  tardiness,  as  if  glad  to 
make  us  know  they  were  our  masters.  At  this  point  the 
lake  was  narrowed  to  the  breadth  of  not  a  very  wide  river 
by  a  round  ear  or  promontory  on  the  side  on  which  we 
were,  and  a  low  ridge  of  peat-mossy  ground  on  the  other. 
It  was  a  dreary  place,  shut  out  from  the  beautiful  pro- 
spect of  the  Isle  of  Mull,  and  Dunstaffnage  Castle — so  the 
fortress  was  called.  Four  or  five  men  came  over  with  the 
boat;  the  horse  was  unyoked,  and  being  harshly  driven 
over  rough  stones,  which  were  as  slippery  as  ice,  with  slimy 
seaweed,  he  was  in  terror  before  he  reached  the  boat,  and 
they  completed  the  work  by  beating  and  pushing  him  by 


154  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

main  force  over  the  ridge  of  the  boat,  for  there  was  no 
open  end,  or  plank,  or  any  other  convenience  for  shipping 
either  horse  or  carriage.  I  was  very  uneasy  when  we  were 
launched  on  the  water.  A  blackguard-looking  fellow, 
blind  of  one  eye,  which  I  could  not  but  think  had  been  put 
out  in  some  strife  or  other,  held  him  by  force  like  a  horse- 
breaker,  while  the  poor  creature  fretted,  and  stamped  with 
his  feet  against  the  bare  boards,  frightening  himself  more 
and  more  with  every  stroke ;  and  when  we  were  in  the 
middle  of  the  water  I  would  have  given  a  thousand  pounds 
to  have  been  sure  that  we  should  reach  the  other  side  in 
safety.  The  tide  was  rushing  violently  in,  making  a 
strong  eddy  with  the  stream  of  the  loch,  so  that  the 
motion  of  the  boat  and  the  noise  and  foam  of  the 
waves  terrified  him  still  more,  and  we  thought  it  would  be 
impossible  to  keep  him  in  the  boat,  and  when  we  were  just 
far  enough  from  the  shore  to  have  been  all  drowned  he 
became  furious,  and,  plunging  desperately,  his  hind-legs 
were  in  the  water,  then,  recovering  himself,  he  beat  with 
such  force  against  the  boat-side  that  we  were  afraid  he 
should  send  his  feet  through.  All  the  while  the  men  were 
swearing  terrible  oaths,  and  cursing  the  poor  beast,  redoub- 
ling their  curses  when  we  reached  the  landing-place,  and 
whipping  him  ashore  in  brutal  triumph. 

We  had  only  room  for  half  a  heartful  of  joy  when  we 
set  foot  on  dry  land,  for  another  ferry  was  to  be  crossed 
five  miles  further.  We  had  intended  breakfasting  at  this 
house  if  it  had  been  a  decent  place ;  but  after  this  affair 
we  were  glad  to  pay  the  men  off  and  depart,  though  I  was 
not  well,  and  needed  refreshment.  The  people  made  us 
more  easy  by  assuring  us  that  we  might  easily  swim  the 
horse  over  the  next  ferry.  The  first  mile  or  two  of  our 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  155 

road  was  over  a  peat  moss ;  we  then  came  near  to  the  sea- 
shore, and  had  beautiful  views  backwards  towards  the 
Island  of  Mull  and  Dunstaffnage  Castle,  and  forward 
where  the  sea  ran  up  between  the  hills.  In  this  part,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  small  bay  or  elbow  of  the  sea,  was 
a  gentleman's  house  on  a  hill-side,*  and  a  building  on  the 
hill-top  which  we  took  for  a  lighthouse,  but  were  told  that 
it  belonged  to  the  mansion,  and  was  only  lighted  up  on 
rejoicing  days — the  laird's  birthday,  for  instance. 

Before  we  had  left  the  peat-moss  to  travel  close  to  the 
sea-shore  we  delighted  ourselves  with  looking  on  a  range  of 
green  hills,  in  shape  like  those  bordering  immediately  upon 
the  sea,  abrupt  but  not  high ;  they  were,  in  fact,  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  same ;  but  retiring  backwards,  and  rising 
from  the  black  peat-moss.  These  hills  were  of  a  delicate 
green,  uncommon  in  Scotland  ;  a  foaming  rivulet  ran  down 
one  part,  and  near  it  lay  two  herdsmen  full  in  the  sun, 
with  their  dogs,  among  a  troop  of  black  cattle  which  were 
feeding  near,  and  sprinkled  over  the  whole  range  of  hills — 
a  pastoral  scene,  to  our  eyes  the  more  beautiful  from  know- 
ing what  a  delightful  prospect  it  must  overlook.  We  now 
came  under  the  steeps  by  the  sea-side,  which  were  bold 
rocks,  mouldering  scars,  or  fresh  with  green  grass.  Under 
the  brow  of  one  of  these  rocks  was  a  burying-ground,  with 
many  upright  grave-stones  and  hay-cocks  between,  and 
fenced  round  by  a  wall  neatly  sodded.  Near  it  were  one 
or  two  houses,  with  out-houses  under  a  group  of  trees,  but 
no  chapel.  The  neatness  of  the  burying-ground  would  in 
itself  have  been  noticeable  in  any  part  of  Scotland  where 
we  have  been ;  but  it  was  more  interesting  from  its  situa- 
tion than  for  its  own  sake — within  the  sound  of  the  gentlest 
*  Lochnell  House. 


156  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

waves  of  the  sea,  and  near  so  many  quiet  and  beautiful 
objects.  There  was  a  range  of  hills  opposite,  which  we 
were  here  first  told  were  the  hills  of  Morven,  so  much  sung 
of  by  Ossian.  We  consulted  with  some  men  respecting 
the  ferry,  who  advised  us  by  all  means  to  send  our  horse 
round  the  loch,  and  go  ourselves  over  in  the  boat :  they 
were  very  civil,  and  seemed  to  be  intelligent  men,  yet  all 
disagreed  about  the  length  of  the  loch,  though  we  were 
not  two  miles  from  it :  one  said  it  was  only  six  miles  long, 
another  ten  or  fifteen,  and  afterwards  a  man  whom  we  met 
told  us  it  was  twenty. 

We  lost  sight  of  the  sea  for  some  time,  crossing  a  half- 
cultivated  space,  then  reached  Loch  Creran,  a  large 
irregular  sea  loch,  with  low  sloping  banks,  coppice  woods, 
and  uncultivated  grounds,  with  a  scattering  of  corn  fields ; 
as  it  appeared  to  us,' very  thinly  inhabited:  mountains  at 
a  distance.  We  found  only  women  at  home  at  the 
ferry-house.  I  was  faint  and  cold,  and  went  to  sit  by 
the  fire,  but,  though  very  much  needing  refreshment, 
I  had  not  heart  to  eat  anything  there — the  house  was  so 
dirty,  and  there  were  so  many  wretchedly  dirty  women 
and  children  :^  yet  perhaps  I  might  have  got  over  the  dirt, 
though  I  believe  there  are  few  ladies  who  would  not  have  been 
turned  sick  by  it,  if  there  had  not  been  a  most  disgusting 
combination  of  laziness  and  coarseness  in  the  countenances 
and  manners  of  the  women,  though  two  of  them  were  very 
handsome.  It  was  a  small  hut,  and  four  women  were 
living  in  it :  one,  the  mother  of  the  children  and  mistress 
of  the  house  ;  the  others  I  supposed  to  be  lodgers,  or  per- 
haps servants;  but  there  was  no  work  amongst  them. 
They  had  just  taken  from  the  fire  a  great  pan  full  of 
potatoes,  which  they  mixed  up  with  milk,  all  helping  them- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  157 

selves  out  of  the  same  vessel,  and  the  little  children  put  in 
their  dirty  hands  to  dig  out  of  the  mess  at  their  pleasure. 
I  thought  to  myself,  How  light  the  labour  of  such  a  house 
as  this  !  Little  sweeping,  no  washing  of  floors,  and  as  to 
scouring  the  table,  I  believe  it  was  a  thing  never  thought 
of. 

After  a  long  time  the  fenyman  came  home  ;  but  we  had 
to  wait  yet  another  hour  for  the  tide.  In  the  meanwhile 
our  horse  took  fright  in  consequence  of  his  terror  at  the 
last  ferry,  ran  away  with  the  car,  and  dashed  out  umbrellas, 
greatcoats,  etc. ;  but  luckily  he  was  stopped  before  any 
serious  mischief  was  done.  We  had  determined,  whatever 
it  cost,  not  to  trust  ourselves  with  him  again  in  the  boat ; 
but  sending  him  round  the  lake  seemed  almost  out  of  the 
question,  there  being  no  road,  and  probably  much  difficulty 
in  going  round  with  a  horse  ;  so  after  some  deliberation 
with  the  ferryman  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  swim  over. 
The  usual  place  of  ferrying  was  very  broad,  but  he  was  led 
to  the  point  of  a  peninsula  at  a  little  distance.  It  being 
an  unusual  affair, — indeed,  the  people  of  the  house  said 
that  he  was  the  first  horse  that  had  ever  swum  over, — we 
had  several  men  on  board,  and  the  mistress  of  the  house 
offered  herself  as  an  assistant :  we  supposed  for  the  sake 
of  a  share  in  eighteen-pennyworth  of  whisky  which  her 
husband  called  for  without  ceremony,  and  of  which  she  and 
the  young  lasses,  who  had  helped  to  push  the  boat  into 
the  water,  partook  as  freely  as  the  men.  At  first  I  feared 
for  the  horse  :  he  was  frightened,  and  strove  to  push  him- 
self under  the  boat ;  but  I  was  soon  tolerably  easy,  for  he 
went  on  regularly  and  well,  and  after  from  six  to  ten 
minutes  swimming  landed  in  safety  on  the  other  side. 
Poor  creature!  he  stretched  out  his  nostrils  and  stared 


158  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

wildly  while  the  man  was  trotting  him  about  to  warm 
him,  and  when  he  put  him  into  the  car  he  was  afraid  of 
the  sound  of  the  wheels.  For  some  time  our  road  was  up 
a  glen,  the  banks  chiefly  covered  with  coppice  woods,  an 
unpeopled,  but,  though  without  grandeur,  not  a  dreary 
tract. 

Came  to  a  moor  and  descended  into  a  broad  vale,  which 
opened  to  Loch  Linnhe,  an  arm  of  the  sea,  the  prospect 
being  shut  in  by  high  mountains,  on  which  the  sun  was 
shining  among  mists  and  resting  clouds.  A  village  and 
chapel  stood  on  the  opposite  hill ;  the  hills  sloped  prettily 
down  to  the  bed  of  the  vale,  a  large  level  area — the  grounds 
in  general  cultivated,  but  not  rich.  We  went  perhaps  half 
a  mile  down  the  vale,  when  our  road  struck  right  across  it 
towards  the  village  on  the  hill-side.  We  overtook  a  tall, 
well-looking  man,  seemingly  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
driving  a  cart,  of  whom  we  inquired  concerning  the  road, 
and  the  distance  to  Portnacroish,  our  baiting-place.  We 
made  further  inquiries  respecting  our  future  journey,  which 
he  answered  in  an  intelligent  manner,  being  perfectly 
acquainted  with  the  geography  of  Scotland.  He  told  us 
that  the  village  which  we  saw  before  us  and  the  whole  tract 
of  country  was  called  Appin.  William  said  that  it  was  a 
pretty  wild  place,  to  which  the  man  replied,  '  Sir,  it  is  a 
very  bonny  place  if  you  did  but  see  it  on  a  fine  day,'  mis- 
taking William's  praise  for  a  half-censure ;  I  must  say, 
however,  that  we  hardly  ever  saw  a  thoroughly  pleasing 
place  in  Scotland,  which  had  not  something  of  wildness  in 
its  aspect  of  one  sort  or  other.  It  came  from  many  causes 
here  :  the  sea,  or  sea-loch,  of  which  we  only  saw  as  it  were 
a  glimpse  crossing  the  vale  at  the  foot  of  it,  the  high 
mountains  on  the  opposite  shore,  the  unenclosed  hills  on 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  159 

each  side  of  the  vale,  with  black  cattle  feeding  on  them, 
the  simplicity  of  the  scattered  huts,  the  half-sheltered, 
half-exposed  situation  of  the  village,  the  imperfect  culture 
of  the  fields,  the  distance  from  any  city  or  large  town,  and 
the  very  names  of  Morven  and  Appin,  particularly  at  such 
a  time,  when  old  Ossian's  old  friends,  sunbeams  and  mists, 
as  like  ghosts  as  any  in  the  mid-afternoon  could  be,  were 
keeping  company  with  them.  William  did  all  he  could  to 
efface  the  unpleasant  impression  he  had  made  on  the  High- 
lander, and  not  without  success,  for  he  was  kind  and  com- 
municative when  we  walked  up  the  hill  towards  the  village. 
He  had  been  a  great  traveller,  in  Ireland  and  elsewhere ; 
but  I  believe  that  he  had  visited  no  place  so  beautiful  to 
his  eyes  as  his  native  home,  the  strath  of  Appin  under  the 
heathy  hills. 

We  arrived  at  Portnacroish  soon  after  parting  from 
this  man.  It  is  a  small  village — a  few  huts  and  an  indif- 
ferent inn  by  the  side  of  the  loch.  Ordered  a  fowl  for 
dinner,  had  a  fire  lighted,  and  went  a  few  steps  from  the 
door  up  the  road,  and  turning  aside  into  a  field  stood  at 
the  top  of  a  low  eminence,  from  which,  looking  down  the 
loch  to  the  sea  through  a  long  vista  of  hills  and  mountains, 
we  beheld  one  of  the  most  delightful  prospects  that,  even 
when  we  dream  of  fairer  worlds  than  this,  it  is  possible 
for  us  to  conceive  in  our  hearts.  A  covering  of  clouds 
rested  on  the  long  range  of  the  hills  of  Morven,  mists 
floated  very  near  to  the  water  on  their  sides,  and  were 
slowly  shifting  about :  yet  the  sky  was  clear,  and  the 
sea,  from  the  reflection  of  the  sky,  of  an  ethereal  or 
sapphire  blue,  which  was  intermingled  in  many  places,  and 
mostly  by  gentle  gradations,  with  beds  of  bright  dazzling 
sunshine  ;  green  islands  lay  on  the  calm  water,  islands  far 


160  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

greener,  for  so  it  seemed,  than  the  grass  of  other  places  ;  and 
from  their  excessive  beauty,  their  unearthly  softness,  and  the 
great  distance  of  many  of  them,  they  made  us  think  of  the 
islands  of  the  blessed  in  the  Vision  of  Mirza — a  resemblance 
more  striking  from  the  long  tract  of  mist  which  rested  on 
the  top  of  the  steeps  of  Morven.  The  view  was  endless, 
and  though  not  so  wide,  had  something  of  the  intricacy  of 
the  islands  and  water  of  Loch  Lomond  as  we  saw  them 
from  Inch-ta-vanach ;  and  yet  how  different !  At  Loch 
Lomond  we  could  never  forget  that  it  was  an  inland  lake 
of  fresh  water,  nor  here  that  it  was  the  sea  itself,  though 
among  multitudes  of  hills.  Immediately  below  us,  on  an 
island  a  few  yards  from  the  shore,  stood  an  old  keep  or 
fortress;*  the  vale  of  Appin  opened  to  the  water-side,  with 
cultivated  fields  and  cottages.  If  there  were  trees  near 
the  shore  they  contributed  little  to  the  delightful  effect  of 
the  scene  :  it  was  the  immeasurable  water,  the  lofty  mist- 
covered  steeps  of  Morven  to  the  right,  the  emerald  islands 
without  a  bush  or  tree,  the  celestial  colour  and  brightness 
of  the  calm  sea,  and  the  innumerable  creeks  and  bays,  the 
communion  of  land  and  water  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
travel.  My  description  must  needs  be  languid ;  for  the 
sight  itself  was  too  fair  to  be  remembered.  We  sate  a 
long  time  upon  the  hill,  and  pursued  our  journey  at  about 
four  o'clock.  Had  an  indifferent  dinner,  but  the  cheese 
was  so  excellent  that  William  wished  to  buy  the  re- 
mainder ;  but  the  woman  would  not  consent  to  sell  it,  and 
forced  us  to  accept  a  large  portion  of  it. 

We  had  to  travel  up  the  loch,  leaving  behind  us  the 
beautiful  scene  which  we  had  viewed  with  such   delight 
before  dinner.     Often,  while  we  were  climbing  the  hill,  did 
*  Castle  Stalker. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  161 

we  stop  to  look  back,  and  when  we  had  gone  twenty  or 
thirty  yards  beyond  the  point  where  we  had  the  last  view 
of  it,  we  left  the  car  to  the  care  of  some  children  who  were 
coming  from  school,  and  went  to  take  another  farewell, 
always  in  the  hope  of  bearing  away  a  more  substantial 
remembrance.  Travelled  for  some  miles  along  a  road  which 
was  so  smooth  it  was  more  like  a  gravel  walk  in  a  gentle- 
man's grounds  than  a  public  highway.  Probably  the  country 
is  indebted  for  this  excellent  road  to  Lord  Tweeddale,*  now 
a  prisoner  in  France.  His  house  stands  upon  an  eminence 
within  a  mile  of  Portnacroish,  commanding  the  same  pro- 
spect which  I  have  spoken  of,  except  that  it  must  lose 
something  in  not  having  the  old  fortress  at  the  foot  of  it — 
indeed,  it  is  not  to  be  seen  at  all  from  the  house  or  grounds. 
"We  travelled  under  steep  hills,  stony  or  smooth,  with 
coppice-woods  and  patches  of  cultivated  land,  and  houses 
here  and  there ;  and  at  every  hundred  yards,  I  may  almost 
venture  to  say,  a  streamlet,  narrow  as  a  ribbon,  came 
tumbling  down,  and,  crossing  our  road,  fell  into  the  lake 
below.  On  the  opposite  shore,  the  hills — namely,  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  hills  of  Morven — were  stern  and  severe, 
rising  like  upright  walls  from  the  water's  edge,  and  in 
colour  more  resembling  rocks  than  hills,  as  they  appeared 
to  us.  We  did  not  see  any  house,  or  any  place  where  it 
was  likely  a  house  could  stand,  for  many  miles;  but  as 
the  loch  was  broad  we  could  not  perhaps  distinguish  the 
objects  thoroughly.  A  little  after  sunset  our  road  led  us 
from  the  vale  of  the  loch.  We  came  to  a  small  river,  a 
bridge,  a  mill,  and  some  cottages  at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  and 
close  to  the  loch. 

*  George,  seventh  Marquis  of  Tweeddale,  being  in  France  in  1803,  was 
detained  by  Bonaparte,  and  died  at  Verdun,  9th  August  1804. — Ed. 

L 


162  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Did  not  cross  the  bridge,  but  went  up  the  brook,  hav- 
ing it  on  our  left,  and  soon  found  ourselves  in  a  retired 
valley,  scattered  over  with  many  grey  huts,  and  surrounded 
on  every  side  by  green  hills.  The  hay  grounds  in  the 
middle  of  the  vale  were  unenclosed,  which  was  enough 
to  keep  alive  the  Scottish  wildness,  here  blended  with  ex- 
ceeding beauty ;  for  there  were  trees  growing  irregularly  or 
in  clumps  all  through  the  valley,  rocks  or  stones  here  and 
there,  which,  with  the  people  at  work,  hay-cocks  sprinkled 
over  the  fields,  made  the  vale  look  full  and  populous.  It 
was  a  sweet  time  of  the  evening :  the  moon  was  up ;  but 
there  was  yet  so  much  of  day  that  her  light  was  not  per- 
ceived. Our  road  was  through  open  fields;  the  people 
suspended  their  work  as  we  passed  along,  and  leaning  on 
their  pitchforks  or  rakes,  with  their  arms  at  their  sides, 
or  hanging  down,  some  in  one  way,  some  in  another,  and 
no  two  alike,  they  formed  most  beautiful  groups,  the  out- 
lines of  their  figures  being  much  more  distinct  than  by  day, 
and  all  that  might  have  been  harsh  or  unlovely  softened 
down.  The  dogs  were,  as  usual,  attendant  on  their  mas- 
ters, and,  watching  after  us,  they  barked  aloud ;  yet  even 
their  barking  hardly  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the  place. 

I  cannot  say  how  long  this  vale  was ;  it  made  the 
larger  half  of  a  circle,  or  a  curve  deeper  than  that  of  half 
a  circle,  before  it  opened  again  upon  the  loch.  It  was 
less  thoroughly  cultivated  and  woody  after  the  last 
turning — the  hills  steep  and  lofty.  We  met  a  very  tall 
stout  man,  a  fine  figure,  in  a  Highland  bonnet,  with  a 
little  girl,  driving  home  their  cow :  he  accosted  us,  saying 
that  we  were  late  travellers,  and  that  we  had  yet  four 
miles  to  go  before  we  should  reach  Ballachulish — a  long 
way,  uncertain  as  we  were  respecting  our  accommodations. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  163 

He  told  us  that  the  vale  was  called  the  Strath  of  Duror,  and 
when  we  said  it  was  a  pretty  place,  he  answered,  Indeed  it 
was,  and  that  they  lived  very  comfortably  there,  for  they  had 
a  good  master,  Lord  Tweeddale,  whose  imprisonment  he 
lamented,  speaking  earnestly  of  his  excellent  qualities.  At 
the  end  of  the  vale  we  came  close  upon  a  large  bay  of  the 
loch,  formed  by  a  rocky  hill,  a  continuation  of  the  ridge 
of  high  hills  on  the  left  side  of  the  strath,  making  a  very 
grand  promontory,  under  which  was  a  hamlet,  a  cluster  of 
huts,  at  the  water's  edge,  with  their  little  fleet  of  fishing- 
boats  at  anchor,  and  behind,  among  the  rocks,  a  hundred 
slips  of  corn,  slips  and  patches,  often  no  bigger  than  a  gar- 
den such  as  a  child,  eight  years  old,  would  make  for  sport  : 
it  might  have  been  the  work  of  a  small  colony  from  China. 
There  was  something  touching  to  the  heart  in  this  appear- 
ance of  scrupulous  industry,  and  excessive  labour  of  the  soil, 
in  a  country  where  hills  and  mountains,  and  even  valleys, 
are  left  to  the  care  of  nature  and  the  pleasure  of  the  cattle 
that  feed  among  them.  It  was,  indeed,  a  very  interesting 
place,  the  more  so  being  in  perfect  contrast  with  the  few 
houses  at  the  entrance  of  the  strath — a  sea  hamlet,  without 
trees,  under  a  naked  stony  mountain,  yet  perfectly  sheltered, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  a  large  bay  which  half  the  winds 
that  travel  over  the  lake  can  never  visit.  The  other,  a 
little  bowery  spot,  with  its  river,  bridge,  and  mill,  might 
have  been  a  hundred  miles  from  the  sea-side. 

The  moon  was  now  shining,  and,  though  it  reminded 
us  how  far  the  evening  was  advanced,  we  stopped  for  many 
minutes  before  we  could  resolve  to  go  on ;  we  saw  nothing 
stirring,  neither  men,  women,  nor  cattle;  but  the  linen 
was  still  bleaching  by  the  stony  rivulet,  which  ran  near 
the  houses  in  water-breaks  and  tiny  cataracts.  For  the 


164  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

first  half  mile  after  we  had  left  this  scene  there  was  no- 
thing remarkable ;  and  afterwards  we  could  only  see  the 
hills,  the  sky,  the  moon,  and  moonlight  water.  When  we 
came  within,  it  might  be,  half  a  mile  of  Ballachulish,  the 
place  where  we  were  to  lodge,  the  loch  narrowed  very 
much,  the  hills  still  continuing  high.  I  speak  inaccu- 
rately, for  it  split  into  two  divisions,  the  one  along  which 
we  went  being  called  Loch  Leven. 

The  road  grew  very  bad,  and  we  had  an  anxious  journey 
till  we  saw  a  light  before  us,  which  with  great  joy  we 
assured  ourselves  was  from  the  inn ;  but  what  was  our 
distress  when,  on  going  a  few  steps  further,  we  came  to  a 
bridge  half  broken  down,  with  bushes  laid  across  to  prevent 
travellers  from  going  over.  After  some  perplexity  we 
determined  that  I  should  walk  on  to  the  house  before  us — 
for  we  could  see  that  the  bridge  was  safe  for  foot-passengers 
— and  ask  for  assistance.  By  great  good  luck,  at  this  very 
moment  four  or  five  men  came  along  the  road  towards  us 
and  offered  to  help  William  in  driving  the  car  through  the 
water,  which  was  not  very  deep  at  that  time,  though,  only 
a  few  days  before,  the  damage  had  been  done  to  the  bridge 
by  a  flood. 

I  walked  on  to  the  inn,  ordered  tea,  and  was  conducted 
into  a  lodging  room.  I  desired  to  have  a  fire,  and  was 
answered  with  the  old  scruple  about '  giving  fire,'  with,  at 
the  same  time,  an  excuse  '  that  it  was  so  late,' — the  girl, 
however,  would  ask  the  landlady,  who  was  lying-in ;  the  fire 
was  brought  immediately,  and  from  that  time  the  girl  was 
very  civil.  I  was  not,  however,  quite  at  ease,  for  William 
stayed  long,  and  I  was  going  to  leave  my  fire  to  seek  after 
him,  when  I  heard  him  at  the  door  with  the  horse  and 
car.  The  horse  had  taken  fright  with  the  roughness  of 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  165 

the  river-bed  and  the  rattling  of  the  wheels — the  second 
fright  in  consequence  of  the  feny — and  the  men  had  been 
obliged  to  unyoke  him  and  drag  the  car  through,  a  trouble- 
some affair  for  William ;  but  he  talked  less  of  the  trouble 
and  alarm  than  of  the  pleasure  he  had  felt  in  having  met 
with  such  true  good-will  and  ready  kindness  in  the  High- 
landers. They  drank  their  glass  of  whisky  at  the  door,  wish- 
ing William  twenty  good  wishes,  and  asking  him  twice  as 
many  questions, — if  he  was  married,  if  he  had  an  estate, 
where  he  lived,  etc.  etc.  This  inn  is  the  ferry-house  on 
the  main  road  up  into  the  Highlands  by  Fort- William, 
and  here  Coleridge,  though  unknown  to  us,  had  slept  three 
nights  before.* 

Saturday,  September  3d. — When  we  have  arrived  at  an  un- 
known place  by  moonlight,  it  is  never  a  moment  of  indiffer- 
ence when  I  quit  it  again  with  the  morning  light,  especially 
if  the  objects  have  appeared  beautiful,  or  in  any  other  way 
impressive  or  interesting.  I  have  kept  back,  unwilling  to 
go  to  the  window,  that  I  might  not  lose  the  picture  taken 
to  my  pillow  at  night.  So  it  was  at  Ballachulish  :  and 
instantly  I  felt  that  the  passing  away  of  my  own  fancies 
was  a  loss.  The  place  had  appeared  exceedingly  wild  by 
moonlight ;  I  had  mistaken  corn  fields  for  naked  rocks,  and 
the  lake  had  appeared  narrower  and  the  hills  more  steep 
and  lofty  than  they  really  were. 

We  rose  at  six  o'clock,  and  took  a  basin  of  milk  before 
we  set  forward  on  our  journey  to  Glen  Coe.  It  was  a 
delightful  morning,  the  road  excellent,  and  we  were  in  good 
spirits,  happy  that  we  had  no  more  ferries  to  cross,  and 
pleased  with  the  thought  that  we  were  going  among  the 
grand  mountains  which  we  saw  before  us  at  the  head  of 
*  See  Appendix  D. 


166  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  loch.  We  travelled  close  to  the  water's  edge,  and 
were  rolling  along  a  smooth  road,  when  the  horse  suddenly 
backed,  frightened  by  the  upright  shafts  of  a  roller  rising 
from  behind  the  wall  of  a  field  adjoining  the  road.  William 
pulled,  whipped,  and  struggled  in  vain  ;  we  both  leapt  upon 
the  ground,  and  the  horse  dragged  the  car  after  him,  he 
going  backwards  down  the  bank  of  the  loch,  and  it  was 
turned  over,  half  in  the  water,  the  horse  lying  on  his  back, 
struggling  in  the  harness,  a  frightful  sight !  I  gave  up 
everything ;  thought  that  the  horse  would  be  lamed,  and 
the  car  broken  to  pieces.  Luckily  a  man  came  up  in  the 
same  moment,  and  assisted  William  in  extricating  the 
horse,  and,  after  an  hour's  delay,  with  the  help  of  strings 
and  pocket-handkerchiefs,  we  mended  the  harness  and  set 
forward  again,  William  leading  the  poor  animal  all  the 
way,  for  the  regular  beating  of  the  waves  frightened  him, 
and  any  little  gushing  stream  that  crossed  the  road  would 
have  sent  him  off.  The  village  where  the  blacksmith 
lived  was  before  us — a  few  huts  under  the  mountains,  and, 
as  it  seemed,  at  the  head  of  the  loch ;  but  it  runs  further 
up  to  the  left,  being  narrowed  by  a  hill  above  the  village, 
near  which,  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  was  a  slate  quarry, 
and  many  large  boats  with  masts,  on  the  water  below, 
high  mountains  shutting  in  the  prospect,  which  stood  in 
single,  distinguishable  shapes,  yet  clustered  together — simple 
and  bold  in  their  forms,  and  their  surfaces  of  all  characters 
and  all  colours — some  that  looked  as  if  scarified  by  fire,  others 
green ;  and  there  was  one  that  might  have  been  blasted  by 
an  eternal  frost,  its  summit  and  sides  for  a  considerable 
way  down  being  as  white  as  hoar-frost  at  eight  o'clock  on 
a  winter's  morning.  No  clouds  were  on  the  hills ;  the  sun 
shone  bright,  but  the  wind  blew  fresh  and  cold. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  167 

When  we  reached  the  blacksmith's  shop,  I  left  William 
to  help  to  take  care  of  the  horse,  and  went  into  the  house. 
The  mistress,  with  a  child  in  her  arms  and  two  or  three 
running  about,  received  me  very  kindly,  making  many 
apologies  for  the  dirty  house,  which  she  partly  attributed 
to  its  being  Saturday ;  but  I  could  plainly  see  that  it  was 
dirt  of  all  days.  I  sate  in  the  midst  of  it  with  great 
delight,  for  the  woman's  benevolent,  happy  countenance 
almost  converted  her  slovenly  and  lazy  way  of  leaving  all 
things  to  take  care  of  themselves  into  a  comfort  and  a 
blessing. 

It  was  not  a  Highland  hut,  but  a  slated  house  built  by 
the  master  of  the  quarry  for  the  accommodation  of  his 
blacksmith, — the  shell  of  an  English  cottage,  as  if  left  un- 
finished by  the  workmen,  without  plaster,  and  with  floor 
of  mud.  Two  beds,  with  not  over-clean  bedclothes,  were 
in  the  room.  Luckily  for  me,  there  was  a  good  fire  and  a 
boiling  kettle.  The  woman  was  very  sorry  she  had  no 
butter ;  none  was  to  be  had  in  the  village  :  she  gave  me 
oaten  and  barley  bread.  We  talked  over  the  fire ;  I 
answered  her  hundred  questions,  and  in  my  turn  put  some 
to  her.  She  asked  me,  as  usual,  if  I  was  married,  how 
many  brothers  I  had,  etc.  etc.  I  told  her  that  William 
was  married,  and  had  a  fine  boy ;  to  which  she  replied, 
'  And  the  man 's  a  decent  man  too.'  Her  next-door  neigh- 
bour came  in  with  a  baby  on  her  arm,  to  request  that  I 
would  accept  of  some  fish,  which  I  broiled  in  the  ashes. 
She  joined  in  our  conversation,  but  with  more  shyness 
than  her  neighbour,  being  a  very  young  woman.  She 
happened  to  say  that  she  was  a  stranger  in  that  place,  and 
had  been  bred  and  born  a  long  way  off.  On  my  asking 
her  where,  she  replied,  'At  Leadhills ;'  and  when  I  told 


168  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

her  that  I  had  been  there,  a  joy  lighted  up  her  countenance 
which  I  shall  never  forget,  and  when  she  heard  that  it  was 
only  a  fortnight  before,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  I  was 
exceedingly  affected  with  the  simplicity  of  her  manners  ; 
her  tongue  was  now  let  loose,  and  she  would  have  talked 
for  ever  of  Leadhills,  of  her  mother,  of  the  quietness  of  the 
people  in  general,  and  the  goodness  of  Mrs.  Otto,  who,  she 
told  me,  was  a  '  varra  discreet  woman.'  She  was  sure  we 
should  be  *  well  put  up '  at  Mrs.  Otto's,  and  praised  her 
house  and  furniture ;  indeed,  it  seemed  she  thought  all 
earthly  comforts  were  gathered  together  under  the  bleak 
heights  that  surround  the  villages  of  Wanlockhead  and 
Leadhills  :  and  afterwards,  when  I  said  it  was  a  wild 
country  thereabouts,  she  even  seemed  surprised,  and  said  it 
was  not  half  so  wild  as  where  she  lived  now.  One  cir- 
cumstance which  she  mentioned  of  Mrs.  Otto  I  must  record, 
both  in  proof  of  her  '  discretion,'  and  the  sobriety  of  the 
people  at  Leadhills,  namely,  that  no  liquor  was  ever  drunk 
in  her  house  after  a  certain  hour  of  the  night — I  have  for- 
gotten what  hour ;  but  it  was  an  early  one,  I  am  sure  not 
later  than  ten. 

The  blacksmith,  who  had  come  in  to  his  breakfast, 
was  impatient  to  finish  our  job,  that  he  might  go  out 
into  the  hay-field,  for,  it  being  a  fine  day,  every  plot  of 
hay-ground  was  scattered  over  with  hay-makers.  On  my 
saying  that  I  guessed  much  of  their  hay  must  be  spoiled, 
he  told  me  no,  for  that  they  had  high  winds,  which  dried 
it  quickly, — the  people  understood  the  climate, '  were  clever 
at  the  work,  and  got  it  in  with  a  blink.'  He  hastily 
swallowed  his  breakfast,  dry  bread  and  a  basin  of  weak  tea 
without  sugar,  and  held  his  baby  on  his  knee  till  he  had 
done. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  169 

The  women  and  I  were  again  left  to  the  fireside,  and  there 
were  no  limits  to  their  joy  in  me,  for  they  discovered 
another  bond  of  connexion.  I  lived  in  the  same  part  of 
England  from  which  Mr.  Rose,  the  superintendent  of  the 
slate-quarries,  and  his  wife,  had  come.  '  Oh ! '  said  Mrs. 
Stuart — so  her  neighbour  called  her,  they  not  giving  each 
other  their  Christian  names,  as  is  common  in  Cumberland 
and  Westmoreland, — '  Oh  ! '  said  she, '  what  would  not  I  give 
to  see  anybody  that  came  from  within  four  or  five  miles  of 
Leadhills ! '  They  both  exclaimed  that  I  must  see  Mrs. 
Rose ;  she  would  make  much  of  me — she  would  have  given 
me  tea  and  bread  and  butter  and  a  good  breakfast.  I 
learned  from  the  two  women,  Mrs.  Stuart  and  Mrs.  Duncan 
—so  the  other  was  called — that  Stuart  had  come  from  Lead- 
hills  for  the  sake  of  better  wages,  to  take  the  place  of 
Duncan,  who  had  resigned  his  office  of  blacksmith  to  the 
quarries,  as  far  as  I  could  learn,  in  a  pet,  intending  to  go 
to  America,  that  his  wife  was  averse  to  go,  and  that  the 
scheme,  for  this  cause  and  through  other  difficulties,  had 
been  given  up.  He  appeared  to  be  a  good-tempered  man, 
and  made  us  a  most  reasonable  charge  for  mending  the  car. 
His  wife  told  me  that  they  must  give  up  the  house  in  a 
short  time  to  the  other  blacksmith ;  she  did  not  know 
whither  they  should  go,  but  her  husband  being  a  good 
workman,  could  find  employment  anywhere.  She  hurried 
me  out  to  introduce  me  to  Mrs.  Rose,  who  was  at  work  in 
the  hay -field ;  she  was  exceedingly  glad  to  see  one  of  her 
country-women,  and  entreated  that  I  would  go  up  to  her 
house.  It  was  a  substantial  plain  house,  that  would  have 
held  half-a-dozen  of  the  common  huts.  She  conducted  me 
into  a  sitting-room  up- stairs,  and  set  before  me  red  and 
white  wine,  with  the  remnant  of  a  loaf  of  wheaten  bread, 


170  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

which  she  took  out  of  a  cupboard  in  the  sitting-room,  and 
some  delicious  butter.  She  was  a  healthy  and  cheerful- 
looking  woman,  dressed  like  one  of  our  country  lasses,  and 
had  certainly  had  no  better  education  than  Aggy  Ashburner, 
but  she  was  as  a  chief  in  this  secluded  place,  a  Madam  of 
the  village,  and  seemed  to  be  treated  with  the  utmost  re- 
spect. 

In  our  way  to  and  from  the  house  we  met  several 
people  who  interchanged  friendly  greetings  with  her,  but 
always  as  with  one  greatly  superior.  She  attended  me 
back  to  the  blacksmith's,  and  would  not  leave  me  till  she 
had  seen  us  set  forward  again  on  our  journey.  Mrs. 
Duncan  and  Mrs.  Stuart  shook  me  cordially,  nay,  affec- 
tionately, by  the  hand.  I  tried  to  prevail  upon  the  former, 
who  had  been  my  hostess,  to  accept  of  some  money,  but 
in  vain ;  she  would  not  take  a  farthing,  and  though  I 
told  her  it  was  only  to  buy  something  for  her  little  daughter, 
even  seemed  grieved  that  I  should  think  it  possible.  I 
forgot  to  mention  that  while  the  blacksmith  was  repairing 
the  car,  we  walked  to  the  slate-quarry,  where  we  saw 
again  some  of  the  kind  creatures  who  had  helped  us  in  our 
difficulties  the  night  before.  The  hovel  under  which  they 
split  their  slates  stood  upon  an  out-jutting  rock,  a  part  of 
the  quarry  rising  immediately  out  of  the  water,  and  com- 
manded a  fine  prospect  down  the  loch  below  Ballachulish, 
and  upwards  towards  the  grand  mountains,  and  the  other 
horn  of  the  vale  where  the  lake  was  concealed.  The 
blacksmith  drove  our  car  about  a  mile  of  the  road  ;  we 
then  hired  a  man  and  horse  to  take  me  and  the  car  to  the 
top  of  Glen  Coe,  being  afraid  that  if  the  horse  backed  or 
took  fright  we  might  be  thrown  down  some  precipice. 

But  before  we  departed  we  could  not  resist  our  inclina- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  171 

tion  to  climb  up  the  hill  which  I  have  mentioned  as  ap- 
pearing to  terminate  the  loch.  The  mountains,  though 
inferior  to  those  of  Glen  Coe,  on  the  other  side  are  very 
majestic ;  and  the  solitude  in  which  we  knew  the  unseen 
lake  was  bedded  at  their  feet  was  enough  to  excite  our 
longings.  We  climbed  steep  after  steep,  far  higher  than 
they  appeared  to  us,  and  I  was  going  to  give  up  the  ac- 
complishment of  our  aim,  when  a  glorious  sight  on  the 
mountain  before  us  made  me  forget  my  fatigue.  A  slight 
shower  had  come  on,  its  skirts  falling  upon  us,  and  half  the 
opposite  side  of  the  mountain  was  wrapped  up  in  rainbow 
light,  covered  as  by  a  veil  with  one  dilated  rainbow  :  so 
it  continued  for  some  minutes ;  and  the  shower  and  rainy 
clouds  passed  away  as  suddenly  as  they  had  come,  and  the 
sun  shone  again  upon  the  tops  of  all  the  hills.  In  the 
meantime  we  reached  the  wished-for  point,  and  saw  to  the 
head  of  the  loch.  Perhaps  it  might  not  be  so  beautiful  as 
we  had  imaged  it  in  our  thoughts,  but  it  was  beautiful 
enough  not  to  disappoint  us, — a  narrow  deep  valley,  a  per- 
fect solitude,  without  house  or  hut.  One  of  the  hills  was 
thinly  sprinkled  with  Scotch  firs,  which  appeared  to  be 
the  survivors  of  a  large  forest :  they  were  the  first  natural 
wild  Scotch  firs  we  had  seen.  Though  thinned  of  their 
numbers,  and  left,  comparatively,  to  a  helpless  struggle  with 
the  elements,  we  were  much  struck  with  the  gloom,  and 
even  grandeur,  of  the  trees. 

Hastened  back  again  to  join  the  car,  but  were  tempted 
to  go  a  little  out  of  our  way  to  look  at  a  nice  white  house 
belonging  to  the  laird  of  Glen  Coe,  which  stood  sweetly  in 
a  green  field  under  the  hill  near  some  tall  trees  and  coppice 
woods.  At  this  house  the  horrible  massacre  of  Glen  Coe 
began,  which  we  did  not  know  when  we  were  there ;  but 


172  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  house  must  have  been  rebuilt  since  that  time.  We 
had  a  delightful  walk  through  fields,  among  copses,  and  by 
a  river-side  :  we  could  have  fancied  ourselves  in  some  part 
of  the  north  of  England  unseen  before,  it  was  so  much 
like  it,  and  yet  so  different.  I  must  not  forget  one  place 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  water,  where  we  longed  to  live 
— a  snug  white  house  on  the  mountain-side,  surrounded  by 
its  own  green  fields  and  woods,  the  high  mountain  above, 
the  loch  below,  and  inaccessible  v  but  by  means  of  boats. 
A  beautiful  spot  indeed  it  was ;  but  in  the  retired  parts  of 
Scotland  a  comfortable  white  house  is  itself  such  a  pleasant 
sight,  that  I  believe,  without  our  knowing  how  or  why,  it 
makes  us  look  with  a  more  loving  eye  on  the  fields  and 
trees  than  for  their  own  sakes  they  deserve. 

At  about  one  o'clock  we  set  off,  William  on  our  own  horse, 
and  I  with  my  Highland  driver.  He  was  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  country,  being  a  sort  of  carrier  or  carrier- 
merchant  or  shopkeeper,  going  frequently  to  Glasgow  with 
his  horse  and  cart  to  fetch  and  carry  goods  and  merchandise. 
He  knew  the  name  of  every  hill,  almost  every  rock  ;  and  I 
made  good  use  of  his  knowledge  ;  but  partly  from  laziness, 
and  still  more  because  it  was  inconvenient,  I  took  no  notes, 
and  now  I  am  little  better  for  what  he  told  me.  He  spoke 
English  tolerably ;  but  seldom  understood  what  was  said 
to  him  without  a  '  What 's  your  wull  1 '  We  turned  up  to 
the  right,  and  were  at  the  foot  of  the  glen — the  laird's 
house  cannot  be  said  to  be  in  the  glen.  The  afternoon  was 
delightful, — the  sun  shone,  the  mountain-tops  were  clear, 
the  lake  glittered  in  the  great  vale  behind  us,  and  the 
stream  of  Glen  Coe  flowed  down  to  it  glittering  among 
alder-trees.  The  meadows  of  the  glen  were  of  the  freshest 
green ;  one  new-built  stone  house  in  the  first  reach,  some 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND,  173 

huts,  hillocks  covered  with  wood,  alder-trees  scattered  all 
over.  Looking  backward,  we  were  reminded  of  Patter- 
dale  and  the  head  of  Ulswater,  but  forward  the  greatness 
of  the  mountains  overcame  every  other  idea. 

The  impression  was,  as  we  advanced  up  to  the  head  of 
this  first  reach,  as  if  the  glen  were  nothing,  its  loneliness 
and  retirement — as  if  it  made  up  no  part  of  my  feeling  : 
the  mountains  were  all  in  all.  That  which  fronted  us — 
I  have  forgotten  its  name — was  exceedingly  lofty,  the 
surface  stony,  nay,  the  whole  mountain  was  one  mass  of 
stone,  wrinkled  and  puckered  up  together.  At  the  second 
and  last  reach — for  it  is  not  a  winding  vale — it  makes  a 
quick  turning  almost  at  right  angles  to  the  first ;  and  now 
we  are  in  the  depths  of  the  mountains ;  no  trees  in  the 
glen,  only  green  pasturage  for  sheep,  and  here  and  there  a 
plot  of  hay-ground,  and  something  that  tells  of  former 
cultivation.  I  observed  this  to  the  guide,  who  said  that 
formerly  the  glen  had  had  many  inhabitants,  and  that 
there,  as  elsewhere  in  the  Highlands,  there  had  been  a 
great  deal  of  corn  where  now  the  lands  were  left  waste, 
and  nothing  fed  upon  them  but  cattle.  I  cannot  attempt 
to  describe  the  mountains.  I  can  only  say  that  I  thought 
those  on  our  right — for  the  other  side  was  only  a  continued 
high  ridge  or  craggy  barrier,  broken  along  the  top  into 
petty  spiral  forms — were  the  grandest  I  had  ever  seen. 
It  seldom  happens  that  mountains  in  a  very  clear  air  look 
exceedingly  high,  but  these,  though  we  could  see  the  whole 
of  them  to  their  very  summits,  appeared  to  me  more 
majestic  in  their  own  nakedness  than  our  imaginations  could 
have  conceived  them  to  be,  had  they  been  half  hidden  by 
clouds,  yet  showing  some  of  their  highest  pinnacles.  They 
were  such  forms  as  Milton  might  be  supposed  to  have  had 


174  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

in  his  mind  when  he  applied  to  Satan  that  sublime  expres- 
sion— 

'  His  stature  reached  the  sky.' 

The  first  division  of  the  glen,  as  I  have  said,  was  scattered 
over  with  rocks,  trees,  and  woody  hillocks,  and  cottages 
were  to  be  seen  here  and  there.  The  second  division  is 
bare  and  stony,  huge  mountains  on  all  sides,  with  a  slender 
pasturage  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley ;  and  towards  the 
head  of  it  is  a  small  lake  or  tarn,  and  near  the  tarn  a 
single  inhabited  dwelling,  and  some  unfenced  hay-ground 
— a  simple  impressive  scene !  Our  road  frequently  crossed 
large  streams  of  stones,  left  by  the  mountain-torrents, 
losing  all  appearance  of  a  road.  After  we  had  passed  the 
tarn  the  glen  became  less  interesting,  or  rather  the  moun- 
tains, from  the  manner  in  which  they  are  looked  at ;  but 
again,  a  little  higher  up,  they  resume  their  grandeur. 
The  river  is,  for  a  short  space,  hidden  between  steep  rocks  : 
we  left  the  road,  and,  going  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  rocks, 
saw  it  foaming  over  stones,  or  lodged  in  dark  black  dens  ; 
birch-trees  grew  on  the  inaccessible  banks,  and  a  few  old 
Scotch  firs  towered  above  them.  At  the  entrance  of  the 
glen  the  mountains  had  been  all  without  trees,  but  here 
the  birches  climb  very  far  up  the  side  of  one  of  them 
opposite  to  us,  half  concealing  a  rivulet,  which  came 
tumbling  down  as  white  as  snow  from  the  very  top  of  the 
mountain.  Leaving  the  rock,  we  ascended  a  hill  which 
terminated  the  glen.  We  often  stopped  to  look  behind 
at  the  majestic  company  of  mountains  we  had  left.  Before 
us  was  no  single  paramount  eminence,  but  a  mountain 
waste,  mountain  beyond  mountain,  and  a  barren  hollow  or 
basin  into  which  we  were  descending. 

We  parted  from  our  companion  at  the  door  of  a  whisky 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  175 

hovel,  a  building  which,  when  it  came  out  of  the  work- 
men's hands  with  its  unglassed  windows,  would,  in  that 
forlorn  region,  have  been  little  better  than  a  howling 
place  for  the  winds,  and  was  now  half  unroofed.  On 
seeing  a  smoke,  I  exclaimed,  '  Is  it  possible  any  people  can 
live  there  ? '  when  at  least  half  a  dozen,  men,  women,  and 
children,  came  to  the  door.  They  were  about  to  rebuild 
the  hut,  and  I  suppose  that  they,  or  some  other  poor  crea- 
tures, would  dwell  there  through  the  winter,  dealing  out 
whisky  to  the  starved  travellers.  The  sun  was  now  set- 
ting, the  air  very  cold,  the  sky  clear ;  I  could  have  fancied 
that  it  was  winter-time,  with  hard  frost.  Our  guide 
pointed  out  King's  House  to  us,  our  resting-place  for  the 
night.  We  could  just  distinguish  the  house  at  the  bottom 
of  the  moorish  hollow  or  basin — I  call  it  so,  for  it  was 
nearly  as  broad  as  long — lying  before  us,  with  three  miles 
of  naked  road  winding  through  it,  every  foot  of  which  we 
could  see.  The  road  was  perfectly  white,  making  a  dreary 
contrast  with  the  ground,  which  was  of  a  dull  earthy 
brown.  Long  as  the  line  of  road  appeared  before  us,  we 
could  scarcely  believe  it  to  be  three  miles — I  suppose  owing 
to  its  being  unbroken  by  any  one  object,  and  the  moor 
naked  as  the  road  itself,  but  we  found  it  the  longest  three 
miles  we  had  yet  travelled,  for  the  surface  was  so  stony  we 
had  to  walk  most  of  the  way. 

The  house  looked  respectable  at  a  distance — a  large  square 
building,  cased  in  blue  slates  to  defend  it  from  storms, — but 
when  we  came  close  to  it  the  outside  forewarned  us  of  the 
poverty  and  misery  within.  Scarce  a  blade  of  grass  could 
be  seen  growing  upon  the  open  ground ;  the  heath-plant 
itself  found  no  nourishment  there,  appearing  as  if  it  had 
but  sprung  up  to  be  blighted.  There  was  no  enclosure  for 


176  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

a  cow,  no  appropriated  ground  but  a  small  plot  like  a  church- 
yard, in  which  were  a  few  starveling  dwarfish  potatoes,  which 
had,  no  doubt,  been  raised  by  means  of  the  dung  left  by 
travellers'  horses :  they  had  not  come  to  blossoming,  and 
whether  they  would  either  yield  fruit  or  blossom  I  know 
not.  The  first  thing  we  saw  on  entering  the  door  was  two 
sheep  hung  up,  as  if  just  killed  from  the  barren  moor, 
their  bones  hardly  sheathed  in  flesh.  After  we  had  waited 
a  few  minutes,  looking  about  for  a  guide  to  lead  us  into 
some  corner  of  the  house,  a  woman,  seemingly  about  forty 
years  old,  came  to  us  in  a  great  bustle,  screaming  in  Erse, 
with  the  most  horrible  guinea-hen  or  peacock  voice  I  ever 
heard,  first  to  one  person,  then  another.  She  could  hardly 
spare  time  to  show  us  up-stairs,  for  crowds  of  men  were  in 
the  house — drovers,  carriers,  horsemen,  travellers,  all  of 
whom  she  had  to  provide  with  supper,  and  she  was,  as  she 
told  us,  the  only  woman  there. 

Never  did  I  see  such  a  miserable,  such  a  wretched  place, 
— long  rooms  with  ranges  of  beds,  no  other  furniture  except 
benches,  or  perhaps  one  or  two  crazy  chairs,  the  floors  far 
dirtier  than  an  ordinary  house  could  be  if  it  were  never 
washed, — as  dirty  as  a  house  after  a  sale  on  a  rainy  day,  and 
the  rooms  being  large,  and  the  walls  naked,  they  looked  as 
if  more  than  half  the  goods  had  been  sold  out.  We  sate 
shivering  in  one  of  the  large  rooms  for  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  before  the  woman  could  find  time  to  speak  to  us  again ; 
she  then  promised  a  fire  in  another  room,  after  two 
travellers,  who  were  going  a  stage  further,  had  finished  their 
whisky,  and  said  we  should  have  supper  as  soon  as  possible. 
She  had  no  eggs,  no  milk,  no  potatoes,  no  loaf-bread,  or  we 
should  have  preferred  tea.  With  length  of  time  the  fire 
was  kindled,  and,  after  another  hour's  waiting,  supper 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  177 

came,— a  shoulder  of  mutton  so  hard  that  it  was  impossible 
to  chew  the  little  flesh  that  might  be  scraped  off  the  bones, 
and  some  sorry  soup  made  of  barley  and  water,  for  it  had 
no  other  taste. 

After  supper,  the  woman,  having  first  asked  if  we 
slept  on  blankets,  brought  in  two  pair  of  sheets,  which 
she  begged  that  I  would  air  by  the  fire,  for  they  would  be 
dirtied  below-stairs.  I  was  very  willing,  but  behold !  the 
sheets  were  so  wet,  that  it  would  have  been  at  least  a  two- 
hours'  job  before  a  far  better  fire  than  could  be  mustered 
at  King's  House, — for,  that  nothing  might  be  wanting  to 
make  it  a  place  of  complete  starvation,  the  peats  were  not 
dry,  and  if  they  had  not  been  helped  out  by  decayed  wood 
dug  out  of  the  earth  along  with  them,  we  should  have  had 
no  fire  at  all.  The  woman  was  civil,  in  her  fierce,  wild  way. 
She  and  the  house,  upon  that  desolate  and  extensive  Wild, 
and  everything  we  saw,  made  us  think  of  one  of  those  places 
of  rendezvous  which  we  read  of  in  novels — Ferdinand  Count 
Fathom,  or  Gil  Bias, — where  there  is  one  woman  to  receive 
the  booty,  and  prepare  the  supper  at  night.  She  told  us 
that  she  was  only  a  servant,  but  that  she  had  now  lived 
there  five  years,  and  that,  when  but  a  '  young  lassie,'  she 
had  lived  there  also.  We  asked  her  if  she  had  always 
served  the  same  master,  'Nay,  nay, -many  masters,  for  they 
were  always  changing.'  I  verily  believe  that  the  woman 
was  attached  to  the  place  like  a  cat  to  the  empty  house 
when  the  family  who  brought  her  up  are  gone  to  live  else- 
where. The  sheets  were  so  long  in  drying  that  it  was  very 
late  before  we  went  to  bed.  We  talked  over  our  day's 
adventures  by  the  fireside,  and  often  looked  out  of  the 
window  towards  a  huge  pyramidal  mountain*  at  the  entrance 
*  Buchal,  the  Shepherd  of  Etive. 
M 


178  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

of  Glen  Coe.  All  between,  the  dreary  waste  was  clear, 
almost,  as  sky,  the  moon  shining  full  upon  it.  A  rivulet 
ran  amongst  stones  near  the  house,  and  sparkled  with  light : 
I  could  have  fancied  that  there  was  nothing  else,  in  that 
extensive  circuit  over  which  we  looked,  that  had  the  power 
of  motion. 

In  comparing  the  impressions  we  had  received  at  Glen 
'  Coe,  we  found  that  though  the  expectations  of  both  had 
been  far  surpassed  by  the  grandeur  of  the  mountains,  we 
had  upon  the  whole  both  been  disappointed,  and  from 
the  same  cause  :  we  had  been  prepared  for  images  of  terror, 
had  expected  a  deep,  den-like  valley  with  overhanging  rocks, 
such  as  William  has  described  in  these  lines,  speaking  of 
the  Alps : — 

Brook  and  road 

Were  fellow-travellers  in  this  gloomy  Pass, 
And  with  them  did  we  journey  several  hours 
At  a  slow  step.     The  immeasurable  height 
Of  woods  decaying,  never  to  be  decayed  ! 
The  stationary  blasts  of  waterfalls ; 
And  everywhere  along  the  hollow  rent 
Winds  thwarting  winds,  bewilder'd  and  forlorn ; 
The  torrents  shooting  from  the  clear  blue  sky, 
The  rocks  that  mutter'd  close  upon  our  ears, 
Black  drizzling  crags  that  spake  by  the  way-side 
As  if  a  voice  were  in  them ;  the  sick  sight 
And  giddy  prospect  of  the  raving  stream ; 
The  unfetter'd  clouds,  and  region  of  the  heavens, 
Tumult  and  peace,  the  darkness  and  the  light, 
Were  all  like  workings  of  one  mind,  the  features 
Of  the  same  face,  blossoms  upon  one  tree, 
Characters  of  the  great  Apocalypse, 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  179 

The  Types  and  Symbols  of  Eternity, 

Of  first,  and  last,  and  midst,  and  without  end. 

The  place  had  nothing  of  this  character,  the  glen  being 
open  to  the  eye  of  day,  the  mountains  retiring  in  indepen- 
dent majesty.  Even  in  the  upper  part  of  it,  where  the 
stream  rushed  through  the  rocky  chasm,  it  was  but  a  deep 
trench  in  the  vale,  not  the  vale  itself,  and  could  only  be 
seen  when  we  were  close  to  it. 


180  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 


FOURTH   WEEK. 

Sunday,  September  ith. — We  had  desired  to  be  called  at 
six  o'clock,  and  rose  at  the  first  summons.  Our  beds  had 
proved  better  than  we  expected,  and  we  had  not  slept  ill ; 
but  poor  Coleridge  had  passed  a  wretched  night  here  four 
days  before.  This  we  did  not  know ;  but  since,  when  he 
told  us  of  it,  the  notion  of  what  he  must  have  suffered, 
with  the  noise  of  drunken  people  about  his  ears  all  night, 
himself  sick  and  tired,  has  made  our  discomfort  cling  to 
my  memory,  and  given  these  recollections  a  twofold  interest. 
I  asked  if  it  was  possible  to  have  a  couple  of  eggs  boiled 
before  our  departure  :  the  woman  hesitated ;  she  thought 
I  might,  and  sent  a  boy  into  the  out-houses  to  look  about, 
who  brought  in  one  egg  after  long  searching.  Early  as  we 
had  risen  it  was  not  very  early  when  we  set  off,  for  every- 
thing at  King's  House  was  in  unison — equally  uncomfort- 
able. As  the  woman  had  told  us  the  night  before,  '  They 
had  no  hay,  and  that  was  a  loss.'  There  were  neither  stalls 
nor  bedding  in  the  stable,  so  that  William  was  obliged  to 
watch  the  horse  while  it  was  feeding,  for  there  were  several 
others  in  the  stable,  all  standing  like  wild  beasts,  ready  to 
devour  each  other's  portion  of  corn  :  this,  with  the  slowness 
of  the  servant  and  other  hindrances,  took  up  much  time, 
and  we  were  completely  starved,  for  the  morning  was  very 
cold,  as  I  believe  all  the  mornings  in  that  desolate  place 
are. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  181 

When  we  had  gone  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  I  recol- 
lected that  I  had  left  the  little  cup  given  me  by  the  kind 
landlady  at  Taynuilt,  which  I  had  intended  that  John 
should  hereafter  drink  out  of,  in  memory  of  our  wanderings. 
I  would  have  turned  back  for  it,  but  William  pushed  me 
on,  unwilling  that  we  should  lose  so  much  time,  though 
indeed  he  was  as  sorry  to  part  with  it  as  myself. 

Our  road  was  over  a  hill  called  the  Black  Mount. 
For  the  first  mile,  or  perhaps  more,  after  we  left  King's 
House,  we  ascended  on  foot ;  then  came  upon  a  new  road, 
one  of  the  finest  that  was  ever  trod ;  and,  as  we  went 
downwards  almost  all  the  way  afterwards,  we  travelled  very 
quickly.  The  motion  was  pleasant,  the  different  reaches 
and  windings  of  the  road  were  amusing;  the  sun  shone,  the 
mountain-tops  were  clear  and  cheerful,  and  we  in  good 
spirits,  in  a  bustle  of  enjoyment,  though  there  never 
was  a  more  desolate  region  :  mountains  behind,  before,  and 
on  every  side ;  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  either 
patch  of  grass,  flower,  or  flowering  heather  within  three  or 
four  miles  of  King's  House.  The  low  ground  was  not  rocky, 
but  black,  and  full  of  white  frost- bleached  stones,  the 
prospect  only  varied  by  pools,  seen  everywhere  both  near 
and  at  a  distance,  as  far  as  the  ground  stretched  out  below 
us :  these  were  interesting  spots,  round  which  the  mind 
assembled  living  objects,  and  they  shone  as  bright  as  mirrors 
in  the  forlorn  waste.  We  passed  neither  tree  nor  shrub 
for  miles — I  include  the  whole  space  from  Glen  Coe — yet 
we  saw  perpetually  traces  of  a  long  decayed  forest,  pieces  of 
black  mouldering  wood. 

Through  such  a  country  as  this  we  had  travelled  per- 
haps seven  and  a  half  miles  this  morning,  when,  after 
descending  a  hill,  we  turned  to  the  right,  and  saw  an 


182  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

unexpected  sight  in  the  moorland  hollow  into  which  we 
were  entering,  a  small  lake  bounded  on  the  opposite 
side  by  a  grove  of  Scotch  firs,  two  or  three  cottages 
at  the  head  of  it,  and  a  lot  of  cultivated  ground  with 
scattered  hay-cocks.  The  road  along  which  we  were  going, 
after  having  made  a  curve  considerably  above  the  tarn, 
was  seen  winding  through  the  trees  on  the  other  side,  a 
beautiful  object,  and,  luckily  for  us,  a  drove  of  cattle 
happened  to  be  passing  there  at  the  very  time,  a  stream 
coursing  the  road,  with  off-stragglers  to  the  borders  of  the 
lake,  and  under  the  trees  on  the  sloping  ground. 

In  conning  over  our  many  wanderings  I  shall  never  for- 
get the  gentle  pleasure  with  which  we  greeted  the  lake  of 
Inveroran  and  its  few  grey  cottages  :  we  suffered  our  horse 
to  slacken  his  pace,  having  now  no  need  of  the  comfort  of 
quick  motion,  though  we  were  glad  to  think  that  one  of 
those  cottages  might  be  the  public-house  where  we  were 
to  breakfast.  A  forest — now,  as  it  appeared,  dwindled 
into  the  small  grove  bordering  the  lake — had,  not  many 
years  ago,  spread  to  that  side  of  the  vale  where  we  were  : 
large  stumps  of  trees  which  had  been  cut  down  were  yet 
remaining  undecayed,  and  there  were  some  single  trees 
left  alive,  as  if  by  their  battered  black  boughs  to  tell  us 
of  the  storms  that  visit  the  valley  which  looked  now  so 
sober  and  peaceful.  When  we  arrived  at  the  huts,  one. of 
them  proved  to  be  the  inn,  a  thatched  house  without  a 
sign-board.  We  were  kindly  received,  had  a  fire  lighted 
in  the  parlour,  and  were  in  such  good  humour  that  we 
seemed  to  have  a  thousand  comforts  about  us ;  but  we  had 
need  of  a  little  patience  in  addition  to  this  good  humour 
before  breakfast  was  brought,  and  at  last  it  proved  a  dis- 
appointment :  the  butter  not  eatable,  the  barley-cakes 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  183 

fusty,  the  oat-bread  so  hard  I  could  not  chew  it,  and 
there  were  only  four  eggs  in  the  house,  which  they  had 
boiled  as  hard  as  stones. 

Before  we  had  finished  breakfast  two  foot-travellers  came 
in,  and  seated  themselves  at  our  table ;  one  of  them  was 
returning,  after  a  long  absence,  to  Fort- William,  his  native 
home;  he  had  come  from  Egypt,  and,  many  years  ago, 
had  been  on  a  recruiting  party  at  Penrith,  and  knew 
many  people  there.  He  seemed  to  think  his  own  country 
but  a  dismal  land. 

There  being  no  bell  in  the  parlour,  I  had  occasion  to  go 
several  times  and  ask  for  what  we  wanted  in  the  kitchen, 
and  I  would  willingly  have  given  twenty  pounds  to  have 
been  able  to  take  a  lively  picture  of  it.  About  seven  or 
eight  travellers,  probably  drovers,  with  as  many  dogs,  were 
sitting  in  a  complete  circle  round  a  large  peat-fire  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  each  with  a  mess  of  porridge,  in  a 
wooden  vessel,  upon  his  knee ;  a  pot,  suspended  from  one 
of  the  black  beams,  was  boiling  on  the  fire ;  two  or  three 
women  pursuing  their  household  business  on  the  outside 
of  the  circle,  children  playing  on  the  floor.  There  was 
nothing  uncomfortable  in  this  confusion  :  happy,  busy,  or 
vacant  faces,  all  looked  pleasant ;  and  even  the  smoky  air, 
being  a  sort  of  natural  indoor  atmosphere  of  Scotland,  served 
only  to  give  a  softening,  I  may  say  harmony,  to  the  whole. 

We  departed  immediately  after  breakfast ;  our  road 
leading  us,  as  I  have  said,  near  the  lake-side  and  through 
the  grove  of  firs,  which  extended  backward  much  further 
than  we  had  imagined.  After  we  had  left  it  we  came 
again  among  bare  moorish  wastes,  as  before,  under  the 
mountains,  so  that  Inveroran  still  lives  in  our  recollection 
as  a  favoured  place,  a  flower  in  the  desert. 


184  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Descended  upon  the  whole,  I  believe  very  considerably, 
in  our  way  to  Tyndrum ;  but  it  was  a  road  of  long  ups 
and  downs,  over  hills  and  through  hollows  of  uncultivated 
ground ;  a  chance  farm  perhaps  once  in  three  miles,  a 
glittering  rivulet  bordered  with  greener  grass  than  grew  on 
the  broad  waste,  or  a  broken  fringe  of  alders  or  birches, 
partly  concealing  and  partly  pointing  out  its  course. 

Arrived  at  Tyndrum  at  about  two  o'clock.  It  is  a  cold 
spot.  Though,  as  I  should  suppose,  situated  lower  than 
Inveroran,  and  though  we  saw  it  in  the  hottest  time  of  the 
afternoon  sun,  it  had  a  far  colder  aspect  from  the  want  of 
trees.  We  were  here  informed  that  Coleridge,  who,  we 
supposed,  was  gone  to  Edinburgh,  had  dined  at  this  very 
house  a  few  days  before,  in  his  road  to  Fort- William.  By 
the  help  of  the  cook,  who  was  called  in,  the  landlady  made 
out  the  very  day  :  it  was  the  day  after  we  parted  from 
him ;  as  she  expressed  it,  the  day  after  the  '  great  speet,' 
namely,  the  great  rain.  We  had  a  moorfowl  and  mutton- 
chops  for  dinner,  well  cooked,  and  a  reasonable  charge. 
The  house  was  clean  for  a  Scotch  inn,  and  the  people  about 
the  doors  were  well  dressed.  In  one  of  the  parlours  we 
saw  a  company  of  nine  or  ten,  with  the  landlady,  seated 
round  a  plentiful  table, — a  sight  which  made  us  think  of  the 
fatted  calf  in  the  alehouse  pictures  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  whole  harvest  of  meats  and  drinks, 
and  there  was  something  of  festivity  and  picture-like  gaiety 
even  in  the  fresh-coloured  dresses  of  the  people  and  their 
Sunday  faces.  The  white  table-cloth,  glasses,  English 
dishes,  etc.,  were  all  in  contrast  with  what  we  had  seen  at 
Inveroran  :  the  places  were  but  about  nine  miles  asunder, 
both  among  hills ;  the  rank  of  the  people  little  different, 
and  each  house  appeared  to  be  a  house  of  plenty. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  185 

We  were  I  think  better  pleased  with  our  treatment  at 
this  inn  than  any  of  the  lonely  houses  on  the  road,  except 
Taynuilt ;  but  Coleridge  had  not  fared  so  well,  and  was 
dissatisfied,  as  he  has  since  told  us,  and  the  two  travellers 
who  breakfasted  with  us  at  Inveroran  had  given  a  bad 
account  of  the  house. 

Left  Tyndrum  at  about  five  o'clock  ;  a  gladsome  after- 
noon ;  the  road  excellent,  and  we  bowled  downwards 
through  a  pleasant  vale,  though  not  populous,  or  well  culti- 
vated, or  woody,  but  enlivened  by  a  river  that  glittered  as 
it  flowed.  On  the  side  of  a  sunny  hill  a  knot  of  men  and 
women  were  gathered  together  at  a  preaching.  We  passed 
by  many  droves  of  cattle  and  Shetland  ponies,  which  acci- 
dent stamped  a  character  upon  places,  else  unrememberable 
— not  an  individual  character,  but  the  soul,  the  spirit,  and 
solitary  simplicity  of  many  a  Highland  region. 

We  had  about  eleven  miles  to  travel  before  we  came  to 
our  lodging,  and  had  gone  five  or  six,  almost  always  de- 
scending, and  still  in  the  same  vale,  when  we  saw  a  small 
lake  before  us  after  the  vale  had  made  a  bending  to  the 
left ;  it  was  about  sunset  when  we  came  up  to  the  lake ; 
the  afternoon  breezes  had  died  away,  and  the  water  was  in 
perfect  stillness.  One  grove-like  island,  with  a  ruin  that 
stood  upon  it  overshadowed  by  the  trees,  was  reflected  on 
the  water.  This  building,  which,  on  that  beautiful  evening, 
seemed  to  be  wrapped  up  in  religious  quiet,  we  were 
informed  had  been  raised  for  defence  by  some  Highland 
chieftain.  All  traces  of  strength,  or  war,  or  danger  are 
passed  away,  and  in  the  mood  in  which  we  were  we  could 
only  look  upon  it  as  a  place  of  retirement  and  peace.  The 
lake  is  called  Loch  Dochart.  We  passed  by  two  others  of 
inferior  beauty,  and  continued  to  .travel  along  the  side  of 


186  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  same  river,  the  Dochart,  through  an  irregular,  undeter- 
mined vale, — poor  soil  and  much  waste  land. 

At  that  time  of  the  evening  when,  by  looking  steadily, 
we  could  discover  a  few  pale  stars  in  the  sky,  we  saw  upon 
an  eminence,  the  bound  of  our  horizon,  though  very  near  to 
us,  and  facing  the  bright  yellow  clouds  of  the  west,  a  group 
of  figures  that  made  us  feel  how  much  we  wanted  in  not 
being  painters.  Two  herdsmen,  with  a  dog  beside  them, 
were  sitting  on  the  hill,  overlooking  a  herd  of  cattle  scat- 
tered over  a  large  meadow  by  the  river-side.  Their  forms, 
looked  at  through  a  fading  light,  and  backed  by  the  bright 
west,  were  exceedingly  distinct,  a  beautiful  picture  in  the 
quiet  of  a  Sabbath  evening,  exciting  thoughts  and  images 
of  almost  patriarchal  simplicity  and  grace.  We  were  much 
pleased  with  the  situation  of  our  inn,  where  we  arrived 
between  eight  and  nine  o'clock.  The  river  was  at  the  dis- 
tance of  a  broad  field  from  the  door ;  we  could  see  it  from 
the  upper  windows  and  hear  its  murmuring ;  the  moon 
shone,  enlivening  the  large  corn  fields  with  cheerful  light. 
We  had  a  bad  supper,  and  the  next  morning  they  made 
us  an  unreasonable  charge ;  and  the  servant  was  uncivil, 
because,  forsooth  !  we  had  no  wine. 

N.B. — The  travellers  in  the  morning  had  spoken  highly 
of  this  inn.* 

Monday,  September  5th. — After  drinking  a  bason  of  milk 
we  set  off  again  at  a  little  after  six  o'clock — a  fine  morn- 
ing— eight  miles  to  Killin — the  river  Dochart  always  on 
our  left.  The  face  of  the  country  not  very  interesting, 
though  not  unpleasing,  reminding  us  of  some  of  the  vales 
of  the  north  of  England,  though  meagre,  nipped-up,  or 

*  Suie. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  187 

shrivelled  compared  with  them.  There  were  rocks,  and 
rocky  knolls,  as  about  Grasmere  and  Wytheburn,  and 
copses,  but  of  a  starveling  growth ;  the  cultivated  ground 
poor.  Within  a  mile  or  two  of  Killin  the  land  was  better 
cultivated,  and,  looking  down  the  vale,  we  had  a  view  of 
Loch  Tay,  into  which  the  Dochart  falls.  Close  to  the  town, 
the  river  took  up  a  roaring  voice,  beating  its  way  over  a 
rocky  descent  among  large  black  stones  :  islands  in  the 
middle  turning  the  stream  this  way  and  that ;  the  whole 
course  of  the  river  very  wide.  We  crossed  it  by  means  of 
three  bridges,  which  make  one  continued  bridge  of  a  great 
length.  On  an  island  below  the  bridge  is  a  gateway  with 
tall  pillars,  leading  to  an  old  burying-ground  belonging  to 
some  noble  family.*  It  has  a  singular  appearance,  and  the 
place  is  altogether  uncommon  and  romantic — a  remnant  of 
ancient  grandeur  :  extreme  natural  wildness — the  sound  of 
roaring  water,  and  withal,  the  ordinary  half-village,  half- 
town  bustle  of  an  every-day  place. 

The  inn  at  Killin  is  one  of  the  largest  on  the  Scotch 
road  :  it  stands  pleasantly,  near  the  chapel,  at  some  distance 
from  the  river  Dochart,  and  out  of  reach  of  its  tumultuous 
noise  ;  and  another  broad,  stately,  and  silent  stream,  which 
you  cannot  look  at  without  remembering  its  boisterous 
neighbour,  flows  close  under  the  windows  of  the  inn,  and 
beside  the  churchyard,  in  which  are  many  graves.  That 
river  falls  into  the  lake  at  the  distance  of  nearly  a  mile 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Dochart.  It  is  bordered  with  tall 
trees  and  corn  fields,  bearing  plentiful  crops,  the  richest  we 
had  seen  in  Scotland. 

After  breakfast  we  walked  onwards,  expecting  that  the 
stream  would  lead  us  into  some  considerable  vale;  but  it 
*  The  burial-place  of  Macnab  of  Macnab. 


188  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

soon  became  little  better  than  a  common  rivulet,  and  the 
glen  appeared  to  be  short ;  indeed,  we  wondered  how  the 
river  had  grown  so  great  all  at  once.  Our  horse  had  not 
been  able  to  eat  his  corn,  and  we  waited  a  long  time  in  the 
hope  that  he  would  be  better.  At  eleven  o'clock,  however, 
we  determined  to  set  off,  and  give  him  all  the  ease  possible 
by  walking  up  the  hills,  and  not  pushing  beyond  a  slow 
walk.  We  had  fourteen  miles  to  travel  to  Kenmore,  by 
the  side  of  Loch  Tay.  Crossed  the  same  bridge  again,  and 
went  down  the  south  side  of  the  lake.  We  had  a  delight- 
ful view  of  the  village  of  Killin,  among  rich  green  fields, 
corn  and  wood,  and  up  towards  the  two  horns  of  the  vale 
of  Tay,  the  valley  of  the  Dochart,  and  the  other  valley  with 
its  full-grown  river,  the  prospect  terminated  by  mountains. 
We  travelled  through  lanes,  woods,  or  open  fields,  never 
close  to  the  lake,  but  always  near  it,  for  many  miles,  the 
road  being  carried  along  the  side  of  a  hill,  which  rose  in  an 
almost  regularly  receding  steep  from  the  lake.  The  opposite 
shore  did  not  much  differ  from  that  down  which  we  went, 
but  it  seemed  more  thinly  inhabited,  and  not  so  well  culti- 
vated. The  sun  shone,  the  cottages  were  pleasant,  and  the 
goings-on  of  the  harvest — for  all  the  inhabitants  were  at 
work  in  the  corn  fields — made  the  way  cheerful.  But  there 
is  an  uniformity  in  the  lake  which,  comparing  it  with  other 
lakes,  made  it  appear  tiresome.  It  has  no  windings :  I 
should  even  imagine,  although  it  is  so  many  miles  long, 
that,  from  some  points  not  very  high  on  the  hills,  it  may  be 
seen  from  one  end  to  the  other.  There  are  few  bays,  no 
lurking-places  where  the  water  hides  itself  in  the  land,  no 
outjutting  points  or  promontories,  no  islands ;  and  there 
are  no  commanding  mountains  or  precipices.  I  think  that 
this  lake  would  be  the  most  pleasing  in  spring-time,  or  in 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  189 

summer  before  the  corn  begins  to  change  colour,  the  long 
tracts  of  hills  on  each  side  of  the  vale  having  at  this  season 
a  kind  of  patchy  appearance,  for  the  corn  fields  in  general 
were  very  small,  mere  plots,  and  of  every  possible  shade  of 
bright  yellow.  When  we  came  in  view  of  the  foot  of  the 
lake  we  perceived  that  it  ended,  as  it  had  begun,  in  pride 
and  loveliness.  The  village  of  Kenmore,  with  its  neat 
church  and  cleanly  houses,  stands  on  a  gentle  eminence  at 
the  end  of  the  water.  The  view,  though  not  near  so  beau- 
tiful as  that  of  Killin,  is  exceedingly  pleasing.  Left  our 
car,  and  turned  out  of  the  road  at  about  the  distance  of  a 
mile  from  the  town,  and  after  having  climbed  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  we  were  conducted  into  a  locked-up  plan- 
tation, and  guessed  by  the  sound  that  we  were  near  the 
cascade,  but  could  not  see  it.  Our  guide  opened  a  door, 
and  we  entered  a  dungeon-like  passage,  and,  after  walking 
some  yards  in  total  darkness,  found  ourselves  in  a  quaint 
apartment  stuck  over  with  moss,  hung  about  with  stuffed 
foxes  and  other  wild  animals,  and  ornamented  with  a  lib- 
rary of  wooden  books  covered  with  old  leather  backs,  the 
mock  furniture  of  a  hermit's  cell.  At  the  end  of  the  room, 
through  a  large  bow-window,  we  saw  the  waterfall,  and  at 
the  same  time,  looking  down  to  the  left,  the  village  of  Ken- 
more  and  a  part  of  the  lake — a  very  beautiful  prospect. 


190  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 


MEMORANDUM  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 

'  The  transcript  of  the  First  Part  of  this  Journal,  and 
the  Second  as  far  as  page  149,  were  written  before  the 
end  of  the  year  1803.  I  do  not  know  exactly  when  I 
concluded  the  remainder  of  the  Second  Part,  but  it  was 
resumed  on  the  2d  of  February  1804.  The  Third  Part 
was  begun  at  the  end  of  the  month  of  April  1805,  and 
finished  on  the  31st  of  May.'* 

*  In  this  interval  her  dear  brother,  Captain  Wordsworth,  had  been 
drowned,  as  stated  in  note  to  page  3,  in  the  wreck  of  the  '  Abergavenny,' 
on  February  5,  1 805. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  191 


April  \\th,  1805. — I  am  setting  about  a  task  which, 
however  free  and  happy  the  state  of  my  mind,  I  could  not 
have  performed  well  at  this  distance  of  time ;  but  now,  I 
do  not  know  that  I  shall  be  able  to  go  on  with  it  at  all.  I 
will  strive,  however,  to  do  the  best  I  can,  setting  before 
myself  a  different  object  from  that  hitherto  aimed  at,  which 
was,  to  omit  no  incident,  however  trifling,  and  to  describe 
the  country  so  minutely  that  you  should,  where  the  objects 
were  the  most  interesting,  feel  as  if  you  had  been  with  us. 
I  shall  now  only  attempt  to  give  you  an  idea  of  those  scenes 
which  pleased  us  most,  dropping  the  incidents  of  the  ordi- 
nary days,  of  which  many  have  slipped  from  my  memory, 
and  others  which  remain  it  would  be  difficult,  and  often 
painful  to  me,  to  endeavour  to  draw  out  and  disentangle 
from  other  thoughts.  I  the  less  regret  my  inability  to  do 
more,  because,  in  describing  a  great  part  of  what  we  saw 
from  the  time  we  left  Kenmore,  my  work  would  be  little 
more  than  a  repetition  of  what  I  have  said  before,  or,  where 
it  was  not  so,  a  longer  time  was  necessary  to  enable  us  to 
bear  away  what  was  most  interesting  than  we  could  afford 
to  give. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  193 


Monday,  September  5th. — "We  arrived  at  Kenmore  after 
sunset. 

Tuesday,  September  6th. — Walked  before  breakfast  in  Lord 
Breadalbane's  grounds,  which  border  upon  the  river  Tay. 
The  higher  elevations  command  fine  views  of  the  lake; 
and  the  walks  are  led  along  the  river's  banks,  and  shaded 
with  tall  trees  :  but  it  seemed  to  us  that  a  bad  taste  had 
been  at  work,  the  banks  being  regularly  shaven  and  cut 
as  if  by  rule  and  line.  One  or  two  of  such  walks  I  should 
well  have  liked  to  see ;  but  they  are  all  equally  trim,  and 
I  could  not  but  regret  that  the  fine  trees  had  not  been  left 
to  grow  out  of  a  turf  that  cattle  were  permitted  to  feed  upon. 
There  was  one  avenue  which  would  well  have  graced  the 
ruins  of  an  abbey  or  some  stately  castle.  It  was  of  a  very 
great  length,  perfectly  straight,  the  trees  meeting  at  the 
top  in  a  cathedral  arch,  lessening  in  perspective, — the  boughs 
the  roof,  the  stems  the  pillars.  I  never  saw  so  beautiful 
an  avenue.  We  were  told  that  some  improver  of  pleasure- 
grounds  had  advised  Lord  B.  to  cut  down  the  trees, 
and  lay  the  whole  open  to  the  lawn,  for  the  avenue  is 
very  near  his  house.  His  own  better  taste,  or  that  of 
some  other  person,  I  suppose,  had  saved  them  from  the  axe. 
Many  workmen  were  employed  in  building  a  large  mansion, 
something  like  that  of  Inverary,  close  to  the  old  Louse, 

N 


194  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

which  was  yet  standing ;  the  situation,  as  we  thought,  very 
bad,  considering  that  Lord  Breadalbane  had  the  command 
of  all  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  lake,  including  hills 
both  high  and  low.  It  is  in  a  hollow,  without  prospect 
either  of  the  lake  or  river,  or  anything  else — seeing  nothing, 
and  adorning  nothing.  After  breakfast,  left  Kenmore,  and 
travelled  through  the  vale  of  Tay,  I  believe  fifteen  or  six- 
teen miles ;  but  in  the  course  of  this  we  turned  out  of  our 
way  to  the  Falls  of  Moness,  a  stream  tributary  to  the  Tay, 
which  passes  through  a  narrow  glen  with  very  steep  banks. 
A  path  like  a  woodman's  track  has  been  carried  through 
the  glen,  which,  though  the  private  property  of  a  gentleman, 
has  not  been  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  Nature,  but  merely 
rendered  accessible  by  this  path,  which  ends  at  the  water- 
falls. They  tumble  from  a  great  height,  and  are  indeed  very 
beautiful  falls,  and  we  could  have  sate  with  pleasure  the 
whole  morning  beside  the  cool  basin  in  which  the  waters  rest, 
surrounded  by  high  rocks  and  overhanging  trees.  In  one 
of  the  most  retired  parts  of  the  dell,  we  met  a  young  man 
coming  slowly  along  the  path,  intent  upon  a  book  which 
he  was  reading :  he  did  not  seem  to  be  of  the  rank  of  a 
gentleman,  though  above  that  of  a  peasant. 

Passed  through  the  village  of  Aberfeldy,  at  the  foot  of 
the  glen  of  Moness.  The  birks  of  Aberfeldy  are  spoken 
of  in  some  of  the  Scotch  songs,  which  no  doubt  grew  in 
the  stream  of  Moness  ;  but  near  the  village  we  did  not  see 
any  trees  that  were  remarkable,  except  a  row  of  laburnums, 
growing  as  a  common  field  hedge ;  their  leaves  were  of  a 
golden  colour,  and  as  lively  as  the  yellow  blossoms  could 
have  been  in  the  spring.  Afterwards  we  saw  many 
laburnums  in  the  woods,  which  we  were  told  had  been 
'  planted  ; '  though  I  remember  that  Withering  speaks 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  195 

of  the  laburnum  as  one  of  the  British  plants,  and 
growing  in  Scotland.  The  twigs  and  branches  being  stiff, 
were  not  so  graceful  as  those  of  our  garden  laburnums,  but 
I  do  not  think  I  ever  before  saw  any  that  were  of  so 
brilliant  colours  in  their  autumnal  decay.  In  our  way  to 
and  from  Moness  we  crossed  the  Tay  by  a  bridge  of  ambi- 
tious and  ugly  architecture.  Many  of  the  bridges  in  Scot- 
land are  so,  having  eye-holes  between  the  arches,  not  in 
the  battlements  but  at  the  outspreading  of  the  pillar  of 
the  arch,  which  destroys  its  simplicity,  and  takes  from  the 
appearance  of  strength  and  security,  without  adding  any- 
thing of  lightness.  "We  returned,  by  the  same  road,  to  the 
village  of  Weem,  where  we  had  left  our  car.  The  vale  of 
Tay  was  very  wide,  having  been  so  from  within  a  short  dis- 
tance of  Kenmore :  the  reaches  of  the  river  are  long;  and  the 
ground  is  more  regularly  cultivated  than  in  any  vale  we  had 
yet  seen — chiefly  corn,  and  very  large  tracts.  Afterwards 
the  vale  becomes  narrow  and  less  cultivated,  the  reaches 
shorter — on  the  whole  resembling  the  vale  of  Nith,  but  we 
thought  it  inferior  in  beauty. 

One  among  the  cottages  in  this  narrow  and  wilder  part  of 
the  vale  fixed  our  attention  almost  as  much  as  a  Chinese  or  a 
Turk  would  do  passing  through  the  vale  of  Grasmere.  It 
was  a  cottage,  I  believe,  little  differing  in  size  and  shape  from 
all  the  rest ;  but  it  was  like  a  visitor,  a  stranger  come  into 
the  Highlands,  or  a  model  set  up  of  what  may  be  seen  in 
other  countries.  The  walls  were  neatly  plastered  or  rough- 
cast, the  windows  of  clean  bright  glass,  and  the  door  was 
painted — before  it  a  flower-garden,  fenced  with  a  curi- 
ously-clipped hedge,  and  against  the  wall  was  placed  the 
sign  of  a  spinning-wheel.  We  could  not  pass  this  humble 
dwelling,  so  distinguished  by  an  appearance  of  comfort 


19G  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

and  neatness,  without  some  conjectures  respecting  the 
character  and  manner  of  life  of  the  person  inhabiting  it. 
Leisure  he  must  have  had ;  and  we  pleased  ourselves  with 
thinking  that  some  self-taught  mind  might  there  have 
been  nourished  by  knowledge  gathered  from  books,  and 
the  simple  duties  and  pleasures  of  rural  life. 

At  Logierait,  the  village  where  we  dined,  the  vale 
widens  again,  and  the  Tummel  joins  the  Tay  and  loses  its 
name ;  but  the  Tay  falls  into  the  channel  of  the  Tummel, 
continuing  its  course  in  the  same  direction,  almost  at  right 
angles  to  the  former  course  of  the  Tay.  We  were  sorry  to 
find  that  we  had  to  cross  the  Tummel  by  a  ferry,  and 
resolved  not  to  venture  in  the  same  boat  with  the  horse. 
Dined  at  a  little  public-house,  kept  by  a  young  widow,  very 
talkative,  and  laboriously  civil.  She  took  me  out  to  the 
back-door,  and  said  she  would  show  me  a  place  which  had 
once  been  very  grand,  and,  opening  a  door  in  a  high  wall,  I 
entered  a  ruinous  court-yard,  in  which  was  a  large  old  man- 
sion, the  walls  entire  and  very  strong,  but  the  roof  broken 
in.  The  woman  said  it  had  been  a  palace  of  one  of  the 
kings  of  Scotland.  It  was  a  striking,  and  even  an  affecting 
object,  coming  upon  it,  as  I  did,  unawares, — a  royal  resi- 
dence shut  up  and  hidden,  while  yet  in  its  strength,  by 
mean  cottages ;  there  was  no  appearance  of  violence,  but 
decay  from  desertion,  and  I  should  think  that  it  may 
remain  many  years  without  undergoing  further  visible 
change.  The  woman  and  her  daughter  accompanied  us  to 
the  ferry  and  crossed  the  water  with  us ;  the  woman  said, 
but  with  not  much  appearance  of  honest  heart-feeling,  that 
she  could  not  be  easy  to  let  us  go  without  being  there  to 
know  how  we  sped,  so  I  invited  the  little  girl  to  accom- 
pany her,  that  she  might  have  a  ride  in  the  car.  The  men 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  197 

were  cautious,  and  the  horse  got  over  with  less  alarm  than 
we  could  have  expected.  Our  way  was  now  up  the  vale, 
along  the  banks  of  the  Tummel,  an  impetuous  river ;  the 
mountains  higher  than  near  the  Tay,  and  the  vale  more 
wild,  and  the  different  reaches  more  interesting. 

When  we  approached  near  to  Fascally,  near  the  junction 
of  the  Garry  with  the  Tummel,  the  twilight  was  far 
advanced,  and  our  horse  not  being  perfectly  recovered,  we 
were  fearful  of  taking  him  on  to  Blair-Athole — five  miles 
further ;  besides,  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie  was  within  half 
a  mile,  and  we  were  unwilling  to  go  through  a  place  so 
celebrated  in  the  dark ;  therefore,  being  joined  by  a  tra- 
veller, we  inquired  if  there  was  any  public-house  near ;  he 
said  there  was ;  and  that  though  the  accommodations  were 
not  good,  we  might  do  well  enough  for  one  night,  the  host 
and  his  wife  being  very  honest  people.  It  proved  to  be 
rather  better  than  a  common  cottage  of  the  country ;  we 
seated  ourselves  by  the  fire,  William  called  for  a  glass  of 
whisky,  and  asked  if  they  could  give  us  beds.  The  woman 
positively  refused  to  lodge  us,  though  we  had  every  reason  to 
believe  that  she  had  at  least  one  bed  for  me  ;  we  entreated 
again  and  again  in  behalf  of  the  poor  horse,  but  all  in 
vain ;  she  urged,  though  in  an  uncivil  way,  that  she  had 
been  sitting  up  the  whole  of  one  or  two  nights  before  on 
account  of  a  fair,  and  that  now  she  wanted  to  go  to  bed 
and  sleep ;  so  we  were  obliged  to  remount  our  car  in  the 
dark,  and  with  a  tired  horse  we  moved  on,  and  went 
through  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie,  hearing  only  the  roaring 
of  the  river,  and  seeing  a  black  chasm  with  jagged-topped 
black  hills  towering  above.  Afterwards  the  moon  rose, 
and  we  should  not  have  had  an  unpleasant  ride  if  our 
horse  had  been  in  better  plight,  and  we  had  not  been 


198  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

annoyed,  as  we  were  almost  at  every  twenty  yards,  by 
people  coming  from  a  fair  held  that  day  near  Blair — no 
pleasant  prognostic  of  what  might  be  our  accommodation 
at  the  inn,  where  we  arrived  between  ten  and  eleven 
o'clock,  and  found  the  house  in  an  uproar ;  but  we  were 
civilly  treated,  and  were  glad,  after  eating  a  morsel  of 
cold  beef,  to  retire  to  rest,  and  I  fell  asleep  in  spite  of 
the  noisy  drunkards  below  stairs,  who  had  outstayed  the 
fair. 

Wednesday,  September  1th. — Rose  early,  and  went  before 
breakfast  to  the  Duke  of  Athol's  gardens  and  pleasure- 
grounds,  where  we  completely  tired  ourselves  with  a  three- 
hours'  walk.  Having  been  directed  to  see  all  the  waterfalls, 
we  submitted  ourselves  to  the  gardener,  who  dragged  us 
from  place  to  place,  calling  our  attention  to,  it  might  be, 
half-a-dozen — I  cannot  say  how  many — dripping  streams, 
very  pretty  in  themselves,  if  we  had  had  the  pleasure  of 
discovering  them  ;  but  they  were  generally  robbed  of  their 
grace  by  the  obtrusive  ornaments  which  were  first  seen. 
The  whole  neighbourhood,  a  great  country,  seems  to  belong 
to  the  Duke  of  Athol.  In  his  domain  are  hills  and  moun- 
tains, glens  and  spacious  plains,  rivers  and  innumerable 
torrents ;  but  near  Blair  are  no  old  woods,  and  the  planta- 
tions, except  those  at  a  little  distance  from  the  house, 
appear  inconsiderable,  being  lost  to  the  eye  in  so  extensive 
a  circuit. 

The  castle  stands  on  low  ground,  and  far  from  the 
Garry,  commanding  a  prospect  all  round  of  distant  moun- 
tains, a  bare  and  cold  scene,  and,  from  the  irregularity  and 
width  of  it,  not  so  grand  as  one  should  expect,  knowing 
the  great  height  of  some  of  the  mountains.  Within  the 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  199 

Duke's  park  are  three  glens,  the  glen  of  the  river  Tilt  and 
two  others,  which,  if  they  had  been  planted  more  judi- 
ciously, would  have  been  very  sweet  retirements;  but  they 
are  choked  up,  the  whole  hollow  of  the  glens — I  do  not 
speak  of  the  Tilt,  for  that  is  rich  in  natural  wood — being 
closely  planted  with  trees,  and  those  chiefly  firs;  but  many 
of  the  old  fir-trees  are,  as  single  trees,  very  fine.     On  each 
side  of  the  glen  is  an  ell-wide  gravel  walk,  which  the  gar- 
dener told  us  was  swept  once  a  week.     It  is  conducted  at 
the  top  of  the  banks,  on  each  side,  at  nearly  equal  height, 
and  equal  distance  from  the  stream;  they  lead  you  up  one 
of  these  paths,  and  down  the  other — very  wearisome,  as 
you  will  believe — mile  after  mile !     We  went  into  the  gar- 
den, where  there  was  plenty  of  fruit — gooseberries,  hanging 
as  thick  as  possible  upon  the  trees,  ready  to  drop  off;  I 
thought    the  gardener  might  have  invited  us  to    refresh 
ourselves  with    some  of  his  fruit  after  our  long  fatigue. 
One  part  of  the  garden  was  decorated  with  statues, '  images,' 
as  poor  Mr.  Gill  used  to  call  those  at  Eacedown,  dressed 
in  gay-painted  clothes ;   and  in  a  retired  corner  of   the 
grounds,  under  some  tall  trees,  appeared  the  figure  of  a 
favourite  old  gamekeeper  of  one  of  the  former  Dukes,  in 
the  attitude  of  pointing  his  gun  at  the  game — '  reported  to 
be   a  striking  likeness,'  said  the  gardener.     Looking  at 
some  of  the  tall  larches,  with  long  hairy  twigs,  very  beauti- 
ful trees,  he  told  us  that  they  were  among  the  first  which 
had  ever  been  planted  in  Scotland,  that  a  Duke  of  Athol 
had  brought  a  single  larch  from  London  in  a  pot,  in  his 
coach,  from  which  had  sprung  the  whole  family  that  had 
overspread  Scotland.     This,  probably,  might  not  be  accu- 
rate, for  others  might  afterwards  have  come,  or  seed  from 
other  trees.     He  told  us  many  anecdotes  of  the  present 


200  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Duke,  which  I  wish  I  could  perfectly  remember.  He  is  an 
indefatigable  sportsman,  hunts  the  wild  deer  on  foot, 
attended  by  twelve  Highlanders  in  the  Highland  dress, 
which  he  himself  formerly  used  to  wear;  he  will  go  out 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  not  return  till  night. 
His  fine  family,  '  Athol's  honest  men,  and  Athol's  bonny 
lasses/  to  whom  Burns,  in  his  bumpers,  drank  health  and 
long  life,  are  dwindled  away  :  of  nine,  I  believe  only  four 
are  left :  the  mother  of  them  is  dead  in  a  consumption, 
and  the  Duke  married  again.  We  rested  upon  the 
heather  seat  which  Burns  was  so  loth  to  quit  that  moon- 
light evening  when  he  first  went  to  Blair  Castle,  and  had  a 
pleasure  in  thinking  that  he  had  been  under  the  same 
shelter,  and  viewed  the  little  waterfall  opposite  with  some 
of  the  happy  and  pure  feelings  of  his  better  mind.  The 
castle  has  been  modernized,  which  has  spoiled  its  appear- 
ance. It  is  a  large  irregular  pile,  not  handsome,  but  I 
think  may  have  been  picturesque,  and  even  noble,  before 
it  was  docked  of  its  battlements  and  whitewashed. 

The  most  interesting  object  we  saw  at  Blair  was  the 
chapel,  shaded  by  trees,  in  which  the  body  of  the  impetuous 
Dundee  lies  buried.  This  quiet  spot  is  seen  from  the 
windows  of  the  inn,  whence  you  look,  at  the  same  time, 
upon  a  high  wall  and  a  part  of  the  town — a  contrast  which, 
I  know  not  why,  made  the  chapel  and  its  grove  appear 
more  peaceful,  as  if  kept  so  for  some  sacred  purpose.  We 
had  a  very  nice  breakfast,  which  we  sauntered  over  after 
our  weary  walk. 

Being  come  to  the  most  northerly  point  of  our  destined 
course,  we  took  out  the  map,  loth  to  turn  our  backs  upon 
the  Highlands,  and,  looking  about  for  something  which  we 
might  yet  see,  we  fixed  our  eyes  upon  two  or  three  spots 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  201 

not  far  distant,  and  sent  for  the  landlord  to  consult  with  him. 
One  of  them  was  Loch  Kannoch,  a  fresh-water  lake,  which 
he  told  us  was  bordered  by  a  natural  pine  forest,  that  its 
banks  were  populous,  and  that  the  place  being  very  remote, 
we  might  there  see  much  of  the  simplicity  of  the  High- 
lander's life.  The  landlord  said  that  we  must  take  a  guide 
for  the  first  nine  or  ten  miles ;  but  afterwards  the  road 
was  plain  before  us,  and  very  good,  so  at  about  ten  o'clock 
we  departed,  having  engaged  a  man  to  go  with  us.  The 
Falls  of  Bruar,  which  we  wished  to  visit  for  the  sake  of 
Burns,  are  about  three  miles  from  Blair,  and  our  road  was 
in  the  same  direction  for  two  miles. 

After  having  gone  for  some  time  under  a  bare  hill,  we 
were  told  to  leave  the  car  at  some  cottages,  and  pass  through 
a  little  gate  near  a  brook  which  crossed  the  road.  We 
walked  upwards  at  least  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  the 
hot  sun,  with  the  stream  on  our  right,  both  sides  of  which 
to  a  considerable  height  were  planted  with  firs  and  larches 
intermingled — children  of  poor  Burns's  song ;  for  his  sake 
we  wished  that  they  had  been  the  natural  trees  of  Scot- 
land, birches,  ashes,  mountain-ashes,  etc. ;  however,  sixty 
or  seventy  years  hence  they  will  be  no  unworthy  monument 
to  his  memory.  At  present,  nothing  can  be  uglier  than 
the  whole  chasm  of  the  hill-side  with  its  formal  walks.  I 
do  not  mean  to  condemn  them,  for,  for  aught  I  know,  they 
are  as  well  managed  as  they  could  be ;  but  it  is  not  easy 
to  see  the  use  of  a  pleasure-path  leading  to  nothing,  up  a 
steep  and  naked  hill  in  the  midst  of  an  unlovely  tract  of 
country,  though  by  the  side  of  a  tumbling  stream  of  clear 
water.  It  does  not  surely  deserve  the  name  of  a  pleasure- 
path.  It  is  three  miles  from  the  Duke  of  Athol's  house, 
and  I  do  not  believe  that  one  person  living  within  five  miles 


202  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

of  the  place  would  wish  to  go  twice  to  it.  The  falls  are 
high,  the  rocks  and  stones  fretted  and  gnawed  by  the 
water.  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  pleasure  which  Burns 
received  from  this  stream ;  I  believe  we  should  have  been 
much  pleased  if  we  had  come  upon  it  as  he  did.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  we  took  up  our  car,  and,  turning  back, 
joined  the  man  who  was  to  be  our  guide. 

Crossed  the  Garry,  and  went  along  a  moor  without  any 
road  but  straggling  cart-tracks.  Soon  began  to  ascend  a 
high  hill,  and  the  ground  grew  so  rough — road  there  was 
none — that  we  were  obliged  to  walk  most  of  the  way. 
Ascended  to  a  considerable  height,  and  commanded  an 
extensive  prospect  bounded  by  lofty  mountains,  and  having 
crossed  the  top  of  the  fell  we  parted  with  our  guide,  being 
in  sight  of  the  vale  into  which  we  were  to  descend,  and  to 
pursue  upwards  till  we  should  come  to  Loch  Rannoch,  a 
lake,  as  described  to  us,  bedded  in  a  forest  of  Scotch  pines. 

When  left  to  ourselves  we  sate  down  on  the  hill- 
side, and  looked  with  delight  into  the  deep  vale  below, 
which  was  exceedingly  green,  not  regularly  fenced  or  culti- 
vated, but  the  level  area  scattered  over  with  bushes  and 
trees,  and  through  that  level  ground  glided  a  glassy  river, 
not  in  serpentine  windings,  but  in  direct  turnings  back- 
wards and  forwards,  and  then  flowed  into  the  head  of  the 
Lake  of  Tummel ;  but  I  will  copy  a  rough  sketch  which  I 
made  while  we  sate  upon  the  hill,  which,  imperfect  as  it  is, 
will  give  a  better  idea  of  the  course  of  the  river,  which  I 
must  add  is  more  curious  than  beautiful,  than  my  descrip- 
tion. The  ground  must  be  often  overflowed  in  winter,  for 
the  water  seemed  to  touch  the  very  edge  of  its  banks. 
At  this  time  the  scene  was  soft  and  cheerful,  such  as  invited 
us  downwards,  and  made  us  proud  of  our  adventure. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  203 

Coming  near  to  a  cluster  of  huts,  we  turned  thither,  a  few- 
steps  out  of  our  way,  to  inquire  about  the  road;  these 
huts  were  on  the  hill,  placed  side  by  side,  in  a  figure 
between  a  square  and  a  circle,  as  if  for  the  sake  of  mutual 
shelter,  like  haystacks  in  a  farmyard — no  trees  near  them. 
We  called  at  one  of  the  doors,  and  three  hale,  stout  men 
came  out,  who  could  speak  very  little  English,  and  stared 
at  us  with  an  almost  savage  look  of  wonder.  One  of  them 
took  much  pains  to  set  us  forward,  and  went  a  considerable 
way  down  the  hill  till  we  came  in  sight  of  the  cart  road, 
which  we  were  to  follow ;  but  we  had  not  gone  far  before 
we  were  disheartened.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
William  could  lead  the  horse  and  car  over  the  rough  stones, 
and  to  sit  in  it  was  impossible ;  the  road  grew  worse  and 
worse,  therefore  we  resolved  to  turn  back,  having  no 
reason  to  expect  anything  better,  for  we  had  been  told  that 
after  we  should  leave  the  untracked  ground  all  would  be 
fair  before  us.  We  knew  ourselves  where  we  stood  to  be 
about  eight  miles  distant  from  the  point  where  the  river 
Tummel,  after  having  left  the  lake,  joins  the  Garry  at 
Fascally  near  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie,  therefore  we  resolved 
to  make  our  way  thither,  and  endeavour  to  procure  a  lodg- 
ing at  the  same  public-house  where  it  had  been  refused  to 
us  the  night  before.  The  road  was  likely  to  be  very  bad ; 
but,  knowing  the  distance,  we  thought  it  more  prudent 
than  to  venture  further  with  nothing  before  us  but  uncer- 
tainty. We  were  forced  to  unyoke  the  horse,  and  turn 
the  car  ourselves,  owing  to  the  steep  banks  on  either  side 
of  the  road,  and  after  much  trouble  we  got  him  in  again, 
and  set  our  faces  down  the  vale  towards  Loch  Tummel, 
William  leading  the  car  and  I  walking  by  his  side. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  miles  we  looked  down  upon 


204  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  lake,  our  road  being  along  the  side  of  the  hill  directly 
above  it.  On  the  opposite  side  another  range  of  hills  rose 
up  in  the  same  manner, — farm-houses  thinly  scattered 
among  the  copses  near  the  water,  and  cultivated  ground 
in  patches.  The  lake  does  not  wind,  nor  are  the  shores 
much  varied  by  bays, — the  mountains  not  commanding  ; 
but  the  whole  a  pleasing  scene.  Our  road  took  us  out  of 
sight  of  the  water,  and  we  were  obliged  to  procure  a  guide 
across  a  high  moor,  where  it  was  impossible  that  the  horse 
should  drag  us  at  all,  the  ground  being  exceedingly  rough 
and  untracked  :  of  course  fatiguing  for  foot-travellers,  and 
on  foot  we  must  travel.  After  some  time,  the  river  Tum- 
mel  again  served  us  for  a  guide,  when  it  had  left  the  lake. 
It  was  no  longer  a  gentle  stream,  a  mirror  to  the  sky, 
but  we  could  hear  it  roaring  at  a  considerable  distance 
between  steep  banks  of  rock  and  wood.  We  had  to  cross 
the  Garry  by  a  bridge,  a  little  above  the  junction  of  the 
two  rivers ;  and  were  now  not  far  from  the  public-house, 
to  our  great  joy,  for  we  were  very  weary  with  our  laborious 
walk.  I  do  not  think  that  I  had  walked  less  than  sixteen 
miles,  and  William  much  more,  to  which  add  the  fatigue 
of  leading  the  horse,  and  the  rough  roads,  and  you  will  not 
wonder  that  we  longed  for  rest.  We  stopped  at  the  door 
of  the  house,  and  William  entered  as  before,  and  again  the 
woman  refused  to  lodge  us,  in  a  most  inhuman  manner, 
giving  no  other  reason  than  that  she  would  not  do  it.  We 
pleaded  for  the  poor  horse,  entreated,  soothed,  and  flattered, 
but  all  in  vain,  though  the  night  was  cloudy  and  dark. 
We  begged  to  sit  by  the  fire  till  morning,  and  to  this  she 
would  not  consent ;  indeed,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  sake 
of  the  horse,  I  would  rather  have  lain  in  a  barn  than  on  the 
best  of  feather-beds  in  the  house  of  such  a  cruel  woman. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  205 

We  were  now,  after  our  long  day's  journey,  five  miles  from 
the  inn  at  Blair,  whither  we,  at  first,  thought  of  returning  ; 
but  finally  resolved  to  go  to  a  public-house -which  we  had 
seen  in  a  village  we  passed  through,  about  a  mile  above  the 
ferry  over  the  Tummel,  having  come  from  that  point  to 
Blair,  for  the  sake  of  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie  and  Blair  it- 
self, and  had  now  the  same  road  to  measure  back  again. 
We  were  obliged  to  leave  the  Pass  of  Killicrankie  unseen ; 
but  this  disturbed  us  little  at  a  time  when  we  had  seven 
miles  to  travel  in  the  dark,  with  a  poor  beast  almost  sink- 
ing with  fatigue,  for  he  had  not  rested  once  all  day.  We 
went  on  spiritless,  and  at  a  dreary  pace.  Passed  by  one 
house  which  we  were  half  inclined  to  go  up  to  and  ask  for 
a  night's  lodging ;  and  soon  after,  being  greeted  by  a  gentle 
voice  from  a  poor  woman,  whom,  till  she  spoke,  though  we 
were  close  to  her,  we  had  not  seen,  we  stopped,  and  asked 
if  she  could  tell  us  where  we  might  stay  all  night,  and  put 
up  our  horse.  She  mentioned  the  public-house  left  behind, 
and  we  told  our  tale,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  no  house  to 
which  she  could  take  us.  '  Yes,  to  be  sure  she  had  a  house, 
but  it  was  only  a  small  cottage ; '  and  she  had  no  place  for 
the  horse,  and  how  we  could  lodge  in  her  house  she  could 
not  tell ;  but  we  should  be  welcome  to  whatever  she  had, 
so  we  turned  the  car,  and  she  walked  by  the  side  of  it, 
talking  to  us  in  a  tone  of  human  kindness  which  made  us 
friends  at  once. 

I  remember  thinking  to  myself,  as  I  have  often  done  in 
a  stage-coach,  though  never  with  half  the  reason  to  pre- 
judge favourably,  What  sort  of  countenance  and  figure  shall 
we  see  in  this  woman  when  we  come  into  the  light  ?  And 
indeed  it  was  an  interesting  moment  when,  after  we  had 
entered  her  house,  she  blew  the  embers  on  the  hearth,  and 


206  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

lighted  a  candle  to  assist  us  in  taking  the  luggage  out  of 
the  car.  Her  husband  presently  arrived,  and  he  and 
William  took  the  horse  to  the  public-house.  The  poor 
woman  hung  the  kettle  over  the  fire.  We  had  tea  and 
sugar  of  our  own,  and  she  set  before  us  barley  cakes,  and 
milk  which  she  had  just  brought  in ;  I  recollect  she  said 
she  '  had  been  west  to  fetch  it.'  The  Highlanders  always 
direct  you  by  east  and  west,  north  and  south — very  con- 
fusing to  strangers.  She  told  us  that  it  was  her  business 

to  *  keep  the  gate '  for  Mr. ,  who  lived  at  , 

just  below, — that  is,  to  receive  messages,  take  in  letters,  etc. 
Her  cottage  stood  by  the  side  of  the  road  leading  to  his 
house,  within  the  gate,  having,  as  we  saw  in  the  morning, 
a  dressed-up  porter's  lodge  outside ;  but  within  was  no- 
thing but  the  naked  walls,  unplastered,  and  floors  of  mud,  as 
in  the  common  huts.  She  said  that  they  lived  rent-free  in 
return  for  their  services  ;  but  spoke  of  her  place  and  Mr. 

with  little  respect,  hinting  that  he  was  very  proud, 

and  indeed,  her  appearance  and  subdued  manners,  and 
that  soft  voice  which-  had  prepossessed  us  so  much  in  her 
favour,  seemed  to  belong  to  an  injured  and  oppressed  being. 
We  talked  a  great  deal  with  her,  and  gathered  some  interest- 
ing facts  from  her  conversation,  which  I  wish  I  had  written 
down  while  they  were  fresh  in  my  memory.  They  had 
only  one  child,  yet  seemed  to  be  very  poor,  not  discon- 
tented, but  languid,  and  willing  to  suffer  rather  than  rouse 
to  any  effort.  Though  it  was  plain  she  despised  and  hated 
her  master,  and  had  no  wish  to  conceal  it,  she  hardly  ap- 
peared to  think  it  worth  while  to  speak  ill  of  him.  We 
were  obliged  to  sit  up  very  late  while  our  kind  hostess  was 
preparing  our  beds.  William  lay  upon  the  floor  on  some 
hay,  without  sheets  ;  my  bed  was  of  chaff;  I  had  plenty  of 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  207 

covering,  and  a  pair  of  very  nice  strong  clean  sheets, — she 
said  with  some  pride  that  she  had  good  linen.  I  believe 
the  sheets  had  been  of  her  own  spinning,  perhaps  when  she 
was  first  married,  or  before,  and  she  probably  will  keep 
them  to  the  end  of  her  life  of  poverty. 

Thursday,  September  8th. — Before  breakfast  we  walked  to 
the  Pass  of  Killicrankie.  A  very  fine  scene;  the  river 
Garry  forcing  its  way  down  a  deep  chasm  between  rocks, 
at  the  foot  of  high  rugged  hills  covered  with  wood,  to  a 
great  height.  The  Pass  did  not,  however,  impress  us  with 
awe,  or  a  sensation  of  difficulty  or  danger,  according  to  our 
expectations  •  but,  the  road  being  at  a  considerable  height 
on  the  side  of  the  hill,  we  at  first  only  looked  into  the  dell 
or  chasm.  It  is  much  grander  seen  from  below,  near  the 
river's  bed.  Everybody  knows  that  this  Pass  is  famous  in 
military  history.  When  we  were  travelling  in  Scotland 
an  invasion  was  hourly  looked  for,  and  one  could  not  but 
think  with  some  regret  of  the  times  when  from  the  now 
depopulated  Highlands  forty  or  fifty  thousand  men  might 
have  been  poured  down  for  the  defence  of  the  country, 
under  such  leaders  as  the  Marquis  of  Montrose  or  the 
brave  man  who  had  so  distinguished  himself  upon  the 
ground  where  we  were  standing.  I  will  transcribe  a 
sonnet  suggested  to  William  by  this  place,  and  written  in 
October  1803: — 

Six  thousand  Veterans  practised  in  War's  game, 
Tried  men,  at  Killicrankie  were  array'd 
Against  an  equal  host  that  wore  the  Plaid, 
Shepherds  and  herdsmen.     Like  a  whirlwind  came 
The  Highlanders ;  the  slaughter  spread  like  flame, 


208  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

And  Garry,  thundering  down  his  mountain  road, 
"Was  stopp'd,  and  could  not  breathe  beneath  the  load 
Of  the  dead  bodies.     'Twas  a  day  of  shame 
For  them  whom  precept  and  the  pedantry 
Of  cold  mechanic  battle  do  enslave. 
Oh  !  for  a  single  hour  of  that  Dundee 
Who  on  that  day  the  word  of  onset  gave  : 
Like  conquest  might  the  men  of  England  see, 
And  her  Foes  find  a  like  inglorious  grave. 

We  turned  back  again,  and  going  down  the  hill  below 
the  Pass,  crossed  the  same  bridge  we  had  come  over  the 
night  before,  and  walked  through  Lady  Perth's  grounds  by 
the  side  of  the  Garry  till  we  came  to  the  Tummel,  and 
then  walked  up  to  the  cascade  of  the  Tummel.  The  fall 
is  inconsiderable,  scarcely  more  than  an  ordinary  '  wear ; ' 
but  it  makes  a  loud  roaring  over  large  stones,  and  the 
whole  scene  is  grand — hills,  mountains,  woods,  and  rocks. 

is  a  very  pretty  place,  all  but  the  house.     Stod- 

dart's  print  gives  no  notion  of  it.  The  house  stands  upon 
a  small  plain  at  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers,  a  close  deep 
spot,  surrounded  by  high  hills  and  woods.  After  we  had 
breakfasted  William  fetched  the  car,  and,  while  we  were 
conveying  the  luggage  to  the  outside  of  the  gate,  where  it 

stood,  Mr. mal  apropos  came  very  near  to  the  door, 

called  the  woman  out,  and  railed  at  her  in  the  most  abusive 
manner  for  '  harbouring '  people  in  that  way.  She  soon 
slipped  from  him,  and  came  back  to  us  :  I  wished  that 
William  should  go  and  speak  to  her  master,  for  I  was  afraid 
that  he  might  turn  the  poor  woman  away ;  but  she  would 
not  suffer  it,  for  she  did  not  care  whether  they  stayed  or 
not.  In  the  meantime,  Mr. continued  scolding  her 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  209 

husband ;  indeed,  he  appeared  to  be  not  only  proud,  but 
very  ignorant,  insolent,  and  low-bred.  The  woman  told 
us  that  she  had  sometimes  lodged  poor  travellers  who 
were  passing  along  the  road,  and  permitted  others  to  cook 
their  victuals  in  her  house,  for  which  Mr. had  re- 
primanded her  before ;  but,  as  she  said,  she  did  not  value 
her  place,  and  it  was  no  matter.  In  sounding  forth  the 

dispraise  of  Mr.  ,  I  ought  not  to  omit  mentioning 

that  the  poor  woman  had  great  delight  in  talking  of  the 
excellent  qualities  of  his  mother,  with  whom  she  had  been 
a  servant,  and  lived  many  years.  After  having  inter- 
changed good  wishes  we  parted  with  our  charitable  hostess, 
who,  telling  us  her  name,  entreated  us,  if  ever  we  came 
that  way  again,  to  inquire  for  her. 

We  travelled  down  the  Tummel  till  it  is  lost  in  the  Tay, 
and  then,  in  the  same  direction,  continued  our  course  along 
the  vale  of  Tay,  which  is  very  wide  for  a  considerable 
way,  but  gradually  narrows,  and  the  river,  always  a  fine 
stream,  assumes  more  dignity  and  importance.  Two  or 
three  miles  before  we  reached  Dunkeld,  we  observed  whole 
hill-sides,  the  property  of  the  Duke  of  Athol,  planted  with 
fir-trees  till  they  are  lost  among  the  rocks  near  the  tops  of 
the  hills.  In  forty  or  fifty  years  these  plantations  will  be 
very  fine,  being  carried  from  hill  to  hill,  and  not  bounded 
by  a  visible  artificial  fence. 

Reached  Dunkeld  at  about  three  o'clock.  It  is  a  pretty, 
small  town,  with  a  respectable  and  rather  large  ruined 
abbey,  which  is  greatly  injured  by  being  made  the  nest  of 
a  modern  Scotch  kirk,  with  sash  windows, — very  incongru- 
ous with  the  noble  antique  tower, — a  practice  which  we 
afterwards  found  is  not  uncommon  in  Scotland.  Sent  for 
the  Duke's  gardener  after  dinner,  and  walked  with  him  into 

o 


210  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  pleasure-grounds,  intending  to  go  to  the  Falls  of  the 
Bran,  a  mountain  stream  which  here  joins  the  Tay.  After 
walking  some  time  on  a  shaven  turf  under  the  shade  of 
old  trees,  by  the  side  of  the  Tay,  we  left  the  pleasure- 
grounds,  and  crossing  the  river  by  a  ferry,  went  up  a  lane 
on  the  hill  opposite  till  we  came  to  a  locked  gate  by  the 
road-side,  through  which  we  entered  into  another  part  of 
the  Duke's  pleasure-grounds  bordering  on  the  Bran,  the 
glen  being  for  a  considerable  way — for  aught  I  know,  two 
miles — thridded  by  gravel  walks.  The  walks  are  quaintly 
enough  intersected,  here  and  there  by  a  baby  garden  of 
fine  flowers  among  the  rocks  and  stones.  The  waterfall, 
which  we  came  to  see,  warned  us  by  a  loud  roaring  that 
we  must  expect  it ;  we  were  first,  however,  conducted  into 
a  small  apartment,  where  the  gardener  desired  us  to  look 
at  a  painting  of  the  figure  of  Ossian,  which,  while  he  was 
telling  us  the  story  of  the  young  artist  who  performed  the 
work,  disappeared,  parting  in  the  middle,  flying  asunder  as 
if  by  the  touch  of  magic,  and  lo !  we  are  at  the  entrance 
of  a  splendid  room,  which  was  almost  dizzy  and  alive  with 
waterfalls,  that  tumbled  in  all  directions — the  great  cascade, 
which  was  opposite  to  the  window  that  faced  us,  being  re- 
flected in  innumerable  mirrors  upon  the  ceiling  and  against 
the  walls.*  We  both  laughed  heartily,  which,  no  doubt,  the 
gardener  considered  as  high  commendation;  for  he  was 
very  eloquent  in  pointing  out  the  beauties  of  the  place. 

We  left  the  Bran,  and  pursued  our  walk  through  the 
plantations,  where  we  readily  forgave  the  Duke  his  little 
devices  for  their  sakes.  They  are  already  no  insignificant 
woods,  where  the  trees  happen  to  be  oaks,  birches,  and 
others  natural  to  the  soil ;  and  under  their  shade  the  walks 
*  See  Appendix  E. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  211 

are  delightful.  From  one  hill,  through  different  openings 
under  the  trees,  we  looked  up  the  vale  of  Tay  to  a  great 
distance,  a  magnificent  prospect  at  that  time  of  the  evening; 
woody  and  rich — corn,  green  fields,  and  cattle,  the  wind- 
ing Tay,  and  distant  mountains.  Looked  down  the  river 
to  the  town  of  Dunkeld,  which  lies  low,  under  irregular 
hills,  covered  with  wood  to  their  rocky  summits,  and 
bounded  by  higher  mountains,  which  are  bare.  The  hill  of 
Birnam,  no  longer  Birnam  '  wood,'  was  pointed  out  to  us. 
After  a  very  long  walk  we  parted  from  our  guide  when  it 
was  almost  dark,  and  he  promised  to  call  on  us  in  the 
morning  to  conduct  us  to  the  gardens. 

Friday,  September  §th. — According  to  appointment,  the 
gardener  came  with  his  keys  in  his  hand,  and  we 
attended  him  whithersoever  he  chose  to  lead,  in  spite  of 
past  experience  at  Blair.  We  had,  however,  no  reason  to 
repent,  for  we  were  repaid  for  the  trouble  of  going  through 
the  large  gardens  by  the  apples  and  pears  of  which  he  gave 
us  liberally,  and  the  walks  through  the  woods  on  that  part 
of  the  grounds  opposite  to  where  we  had  been  the  night 
before  were  very  delightful  The  Duke's  house  is  neither 
large  nor  grand,  being  just  an  ordinary  gentleman's  house, 
upon  a  green  lawn,  and  whitewashed,  I  believe.  The  old 
abbey  faces  the  house  on  the  east  side,  and  appears  to 
stand  upon  the  same  green  lawn,  which,  though  close  to  the 
town,  is  entirely  excluded  from  it  by  high  walls  and  trees. 

We  had  been  undetermined  respecting  our  future  course 
when  we  came  to  Dunkeld,  whether  to  go  on  directly  to 
Perth  and  Edinburgh,  or  to  make  a  circuit  and  revisit  the 
Trossachs.  We  decided  upon  the  latter  plan,  and  accord- 
ingly after  breakfast  set  forward  towards  Crieff,  where  we 


212  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

intended  to  sleep,  and  the  next  night  at  Callander.  The  first 
part  of  our  road,  after  having  crossed  the  ferry,  was  up  the 
glen  of  the  Bran.  Looking  backwards,  we  saw  Dunkeld 
very  pretty  under  the  hills,  and  surrounded  by  rich  culti- 
vated ground,  but  we  had  not  a  good  distant  view  of  the 
abbey. 

Left  our  car,  and  went  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
road  to  see  the  Rumbling  Brig,  which,  though  well  worth 
our  going  out  of  the  way  even  much  further,  disappointed 
us,  as  places  in  general  do  which  we  hear  much  spoken  of 
as  savage,  tremendous,  etc., — and  no  wonder,  for  they  are 
usually  described  by  people  to  whom  rocks  are  novelties. 
The  gardener  had  told  us  that  we  should  pass  through  the 
most  populous  glen  in  Scotland,  the  glen  of  Amulree. 
It  is  not  populous  in  the  usual  way,  with  scattered  dwell- 
ings ;  but  many  clusters  of  houses,  hamlets  such  as  we  had 
passed  near  the  Tummel,  which  had  a  singular  appearance, 
being  like  small  encampments,  were  generally  without  trees, 
and  in  high  situations — every  house  the  same  as  its  neigh- 
bour, whether  for  men  or  cattle.  There  was  nothing  else 
remarkable  in  the  glen.  We  halted  at  a  lonely  inn  at  the 
foot  of  a  steep  barren  moor,  which  we  had  to  cross ;  then, 
after  descending  considerably,  came  to  the  narrow  glen, 
which  we  had  approached  with  no  little  curiosity,  not 
having  been  able  to  procure  any  distinct  description  of  it. 

At  Dunkeld,  when  we  were  hesitating  what  road  to  take, 
we  wished  to  know  whether  that  glen  would  be  worth  visit- 
ing, and  accordingly  put  several  questions  to  the  waiter, 
and,  among  other  epithets  used  in  the  course  of  interroga- 
tion, we  stumbled  upon  the  word  'grand,'  to  which  he 
replied,  'No,  I  do  not  think  there  are  any  gentlemen's 
seats  in  it.'  However,  we  drew  enough  from  this  describer 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  213 

and  the  gardener  to  determine  us  finally  to  go  to  Callander, 
the  Narrow  Glen  being  in  the  way. 

Entered  the  glen  at  a  small  hamlet  at  some  distance  from 
the  head,  and,  turning  aside  a  few  steps,  ascended  a  hillock 
which  commanded  a  view  to  the  top  of  it — a  very  sweet 
scene,  a  green  valley,  not  very  narrow,  with  a  few  scattered 
trees  and  huts,  almost  invisible  in  a  misty  gleam  of  after- 
noon light.  At  this  hamlet  we  crossed  a  bridge,  and  the 
road  led  us  down  the  glen,  which  had  become  exceedingly 
narrow,  and  so  continued  to  the  end :  the  hills  on  both 
sides  heathy  and  rocky,  very  steep,  but  continuous ;  the 
rocks  not  single  or  overhanging,  not  scooped  into  caverns 
or  sounding  with  torrents  :  there  are  no  trees,  no  houses, 
no  traces  of  cultivation,  not  one  outstanding  object.  It  is 
truly  a  solitude,  the  road  even  making  it  appear  still  more 
so  :  the  bottom  of  the  valley  is  mostly  smooth  and  level, 
the  brook  not  noisy  :  everything  is  simple  and  undisturbed, 
and  while  we  passed  through  it  the  whole  place  was  shady, 
cool,  clear,  and  solemn.  At  the  end  of  the  long  valley  we 
ascended  a  hill  to  a  great  height,  and  reached  the  top,  when 
the  sun,  on  the  point  of  setting,  shed  a  soft  yellow  light 
upon  every  eminence.  The  prospect  was  very  extensive ; 
over  hollows  and  plains,  no  towns,  and  few  houses  visible — 
a  prospect,  extensive  as  it  was,  in  harmony  with  the 
secluded  dell,  and  fixing  its  own  peculiar  character  of  re- 
movedness  from  the  world,  and  the  secure  possession  of  the 
quiet  of  nature  more  deeply  in  our  minds.  The  following 
poem  was  written  by  William  on  hearing  of  a  tradition 
relating  to  it,  which  we  did  not  know  when  we  were 
there  : — 

In  this  still  place  remote  from  men 
Sleeps  Ossian,  in  the  Narrow  Glen, 


214  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

In  this  still  place  where  murmurs  on 

But  one  meek  streamlet,  only  one. 

He  sung  of  battles  and  the  breath 

Of  stormy  war,  and  violent  death, 

And  should,  methinks,  when  all  was  pass'd 

Have  rightfully  been  laid  at  last     • 

"Where  rocks  were  rudely  heap'd,  and  rent 

As  by  a  spirit  turbulent ; 

Where  sights  were  rough,  and  sounds  were  wild, 

And  everything  unreconciled, 

In  some  complaining,  dim  retreat 

Where  fear  and  melancholy  meet ; 

But  this  is  calm ;  there  cannot  be 

A  more  entire  tranquillity. 

Does  then  the  Bard  sleep  here  indeed  ] 
Or  is  it  but  a  groundless  creed  ? 
What  matters  it?     I  blame  them  not 
Whose  fancy  in  this  lonely  spot 
Was  moved,  and  in  this  way  express'd 
Their  notion  of  its  perfect  rest. 
A  convent,  even  a  hermit's  cell 
Would  break  the  silence  of  this  Dell ; 
It  is  not  quiet,  is  not  ease, 
But  something  deeper  far  than  these ; 
The  separation  that  is  here 
Is  of  the  grave;  and  of  austere 
And  happy  feelings  of  the  dead  : 
And  therefore  was  it  rightly  said 
That  Ossian,  last  of  all  his  race, 
Lies  buried  in  this  lonely  place. 

Having  descended  into  a  broad  cultivated  vale,  we  saw 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  215 

nothing  remarkable.  Observed  a  gentleman's  house,*  which 
stood  pleasantly  among  trees.  It  was  dark  some  time  before 
we  reached  Crieff,  a  small  town,  though  larger  than  Duukeld. 

Saturday,  September  \Qth. — Eose  early,  and  departed 
without  breakfast.  We  were  to  pass  through  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  vales  of  Scotland,  Strath  Erne.  We  found 
it  a  wide,  long,  and  irregular  vale,  with  many  gentlemen's 
seats  under  the  hills,  woods,  copses,  frequent  cottages,  plan- 
tations, and  much  cultivation,  yet  with  an  intermixture  of 
barren  ground ;  indeed,  except  at  Killin  and  Dunkeld, 
there  was  always  something  which  seemed  to  take  from 
the  composure  and  simplicity  of  the  cultivated  scenes. 
There  is  a  struggle  to  overcome  the  natural  barrenness, 
and  the  end  not  attained,  an  appearance  of  something 
doing,  or  imperfectly  done,  a  passing  with  labour  from  one 
state  of  society  into  another.  When  you  look  from  an 
eminence  on  the  fields  of  Grasmere  Vale,  the  heart  is  satis- 
fied with  a  simple  undisturbed  pleasure,  and  no  less,  on 
one  of  the  green  or  heathy  dells  of  Scotland,  where  there 
is  no  appearance  of  change  to  be,  or  having  been,  but  such 
as  the  seasons  make.  Strath  Erne  is  so  extensive  a  vale 
that,  had  it  been  in  England,  there  must  have  been  much 
inequality,  as  in  Wensly  Dale ;  but  at  Wensly  there  is  a 
unity,  a  softness,  a  melting  together,  which  in  the  large 
vales  of  Scotland  I  never  perceived.  The  difference  at 
Strath  Erne  may  come  partly  from  the  irregularity,  the 
undefined  outline,  of  the  hills  which  enclose  it ;  but  it  is 
caused  still  more  by  the  broken  surface,  I  mean  broken  as  to 
colour  and  produce,  the  want  of  hedgerows,  and  also  the 
great  number  of  new  fir  plantations.  After  some  miles  it 
*  Monzie  probably. 


216  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

becomes  much  narrower  as  we  approach  nearer  the  moun- 
tains at  the  foot  of  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  Loch  Erne. 

Breakfasted  at  a  small  public-house,  a  wretchedly  dirty 
cottage,  but  the  people  were  civil,  and  though  we  had 
nothing  but  barley  cakes,  we  made  a  good  breakfast,  for 
there  were  plenty  of  eggs.  Walked  up  a  high  hill  to  view 
the  seat  of  Mr.  Dundas,  now  Lord  Melville — a  spot  where, 
if  he  have  gathered  much  wisdom  from  his  late  disgrace 
or  his  long  intercourse  with  the  world,  he  may  spend  his 
days  as  quietly  as  he  need  desire.  It  is  a  secluded  valley, 
not  rich,  but  with  plenty  of  wood  :  there  are  many  pretty 
paths  through  the  woods,  and  moss  huts  in  different  parts. 
After  leaving  the  cottage  where  we  breakfasted  the  country 
was  very  pleasing,  yet  still  with  a  want  of  richness ;  but 
this  was  less  perceived,  being  huddled  up  in  charcoal 
woods,  and  the  vale  narrow.  Loch  Erne  opens  out  in  a 
very  pleasing  manner,  seen  from  a  hill  along  which  the 
road  is  carried  through  a  wood  of  low  trees ;  but  it  does 
not  improve  afterwards,  lying  directly  from  east  to  west 
without  any  perceivable  bendings ;  and  the  shores  are  not 
much  broken  or  varied,  not  populous,  and  the  mountains 
not  sufficiently  commanding  to  make  up  for  the  deficien- 
cies. Dined  at  the  head  of  the  lake.  I  scarcely 
know  its  length,  but  should  think  not  less  than  four  or 
five  miles,  and  it  is  wide  in  proportion.  The  inn  is  in  a 
small  village — a  decent  house. 

Walked  about  half  a  mile  along  the  road  to  Tyndrum, 
which  is  through  a  bare  glen,*  and  over  a  mountain  pass. 
It  rained  when  we  pursued  our  journey  again,  and  con- 
tinued to  rain  for  several  hours.  The  road  which  we  were 
to  take  was  up  another  glen,  down  which  came  a  stream 
*  Glen  Ogle. 


A  TOUR  Iff  SCOTLAND.  217 

that  fell  into  the  lake  on  the  opposite  side  at  the  head  of 
it,  so,  after  having  crossed  the  main  vale,  a  little  above  the 
the  lake,  we  entered  into  the  smaller  glen.  The  road 
delightfully  smooth  and  dry — one  gentleman's  house  very 
pleasant  among  large  coppice  woods.  After  going  perhaps 
three  miles  up  this  valley,  we  turned  to  the  left  into 
another,  which  seemed  to  be  much  more  beautiful.  It  was 
a  level  valley,  not — like  that  which  we  had  passed — a  wide 
sloping  cleft  between  the  hills,  but  having  a  quiet,  slow- 
paced  stream,  which  flowed  through  level  green  grounds 
tufted  with  trees  intermingled  with  cottages.  The  tops  of 
the  hills  were  hidden  by  mists,  and  the  objects  in  the 
valley  seen  through  misty  rain,  which  made  them  look  exceed- 
ingly soft,  and  indeed  partly  concealed  them,  and  we  always 
fill  up  what  we  are  left  to  guess  at  with  something  as 
beautiful  as  what  we  see.  This  valley  seemed  to  have  less 
of  the  appearance  of  barrenness  or  imperfect  cultivation 
than  any  of  the  same  character  we  had  passed  through ; 
indeed,  we  could  not  discern  any  traces  of  it.  It  is  called 
Strath  Eyer.  '  Strath '  is  generally  applied  to  a  broad  vale ; 
but  this,  though  open,  is  not  broad. 

We  next  came  to  a  lake,  called  Loch  Lubnaig,  a  name 
which  signifies  '  winding.'  In  shape  it  somewhat  resembles 
Ulswater,  but  is  much  narrower  and  shorter,  being  only 
four  miles  in  length.  The  character  of  this  lake  is  simple 
and  grand.  On  the  side  opposite  to  where  we  were  is  a 
range  of  steep  craggy  mountains,  one  of  which — like  Place 
Fell — encroaching  upon  the  bed  of  the  lake,  forces  it  to 
make  a  considerable  bending.  I  have  forgotten  the  name 
of  this  precipice  :  it  is  a  very  remarkable  one,  being  almost 
perpendicular,  and  very  rugged. 

We,  on  the  other  side,  travelled  under  steep  and  rocky 


218  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

hills  which  were  often  covered  with  low  woods  to  a  con- 
siderable height ;  there  were  one  or  two  farm-houses,  and 
a  few  cottages.  A  neat  white  dwelling*  on  the  side  of  the 
hill  over  against  the  bold  steep  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
had  been  the  residence  of  the  famous  traveller  Bruce,  who, 
all  his  travels  ended,  had  arranged  the  history  of  them  in 
that  solitude — as  deep  as  any  Abyssinian  one — among  the 
mountains  of  his  native  country,  where  he  passed  several 
years.  Whether  he  died  there  or  not  we  did  not  learn ; 
but  the  manner  of  his  death  was  remarkable  and  affecting, 
— from  a  fall  down-stairs  in  his  own  house,  after  so  many 
dangers  through  which  fortitude  and  courage  had  never 
failed  to  sustain  him.  The  house  stands  sweetly,  surrounded 
by  coppice-woods  and  green  fields.  On  the  other  side,  I 
believe,  were  no  houses  till  we  came  near  to  the  outlet, 
where  a  few  low  huts  looked  very  beautiful,  with  their 
dark  brown  roofs,  near  a  stream  which  hurried  down  the 
mountain,  and  after  its  turbulent  course  travelled  a  short 
way  over  a  level  green,  and  was  lost  in  the  lake. 

Within  a  few  miles  of  Callander  we  come  into  a  grand 
region ;  the  mountains  to  a  considerable  height  were  covered 
with  wood,  enclosing  us  in  a  narrow  passage ;  the  stream 
on  our  right,  generally  concealed  by  wood,  made  a  loud 
roaring ;  at  one  place,  in  particular,  it  fell  down  the  rocks 
in  a  succession  of  cascades.  The  scene  is  much  celebrated 
in  Scotland,  and  is  called  the  Pass  of  Leny.  It  was  nearly 
dark  when  we  reached  Callander.  We  were  wet  and  cold, 
and  glad  of  a  good  fire.  The  inn  was  comfortable;  we 
drank  tea;  and  after  tea  the  waiter  presented  us  with  a  pam- 
phlet descriptive  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Callander,  which 
we  brought  away  with  us,  and  I  am  very  sorry  I  lost  it. 
*  Ardhullary. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  219 


FIFTH    WEEK. 

Sunday,  September  llth. — Immediately  after  breakfast,  the 
morning  being  fine,  we  set  off  with  cheerful  spirits  towards 
the  Trossachs,  intending  to  take  up  our  lodging  at  the 
house  of  our  old  friend  the  ferryman.  A  boy  accompanied 
us  to  convey  the  horse  and  car  back  to  Callander  from  the 
head  of  Loch  Achray.  The  country  near  Callander  is  very 
pleasing ;  but,  as  almost  everywhere  else,  imperfectly  cul- 
tivated. We  went  up  a  broad  vale,  through  which  runs 
the  stream  from  Loch  Ketterine,  and  came  to  Loch  Venna- 
char,  a  larger  lake  than  Loch  Achray,  the  small  one  which 
had  given  us  such  unexpected  delight  when  we  left  the 
Pass  of  the  Trossachs.  Loch  Vennachar  is  much  larger,  but 
greatly  inferior  in  beauty  to  the  image  which  we  had  con- 
ceived of  its  neighbour,  and  so  the  reality  proved  to  us 
when  we  came  up  to  that  little  lake,  and  saw  it  before  us 
in  its  true  shape  in  the  cheerful  sunshine.  The  Trossachs, 
overtopped  by  Benledi  and  other  high  mountains,  enclose 
the  lake  at  the  head ;  and  those  houses  which  we  had  seen 
before,  with  their  corn  fields  sloping  towards  the  water, 
stood  very  prettily  under  low  woods.  The  fields  did  not 
appear  so  rich  as  when  we  had  seen  them  through  the  veil 
of  mist ;  but  yet,  as  in  framing  our  expectations  we  had 
allowed  for  a  much  greater  difference,  so  we  were  even  a 
second  time  surprised  with  pleasure  at  the  same  spot. 

Went  as  far  as  these  houses  of  which  I  have  spoken  in 


220  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  car,  and  then  walked  on,  intending  to  pursue  the  road 
up  the  side  of  Loch  Ketterine  along  which  Coleridge  had 
come ;  but  we  had  resolved  to  spend  some  hours  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Trossachs,  and  accordingly  coasted 
the  head  of  Loch  Achray,  and  pursued  the  brook  between 
the  two  lakes  as  far  as  there  was  any  track.  Here  we 
found,  to  our  surprise — for  we  had  expected  nothing  but 
heath  and  rocks,  like  the  rest  of  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Trossachs — a  secluded  farm,  a  plot  of  verdant  ground  with 
a  single  cottage  and  its  company  of  out-houses.  We  turned 
back,  and  went  to  the  very  point  from  which  we  had  first 
looked  upon  Loch  Achray  when  we  were  here  with  Cole- 
ridge. It  was  no  longer  a  visionary  scene  :  the  sun  shone 
into  every  crevice  of  the  hills,  and  the  mountain-tops  were 
clear.  After  some  time  we  went  into  the  pass  from  the 
Trossachs,  and  were  delighted  to  behold  the  forms  of  objects 
fully  revealed,  and  even  surpassing  in  loveliness  and  variety 
what  we  had  conceived.  The  mountains,  I  think,  appeared 
not  so  high ;  but  on  the  whole  we  had  not  the  smallest 
disappointment;  the  heather  was  fading,  though  still 
beautiful. 

Sate  for  half-an-hour  in  Lady  Perth's  shed,  and  scrambled 
over  the  rocks  and  through  the  thickets  at  the  head  of  the 
lake.  I  went  till  I  could  make  my  way  no  further,  and 
left  William  to  go  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  whence  he  had  a 
distinct  view,  as  on  a  map,  of  the  intricacies  of  the  lake 
and  the  course  of  the  river.  Eeturned  to  the  huts,  and, 
after  having  taken  a  second  dinner  of  the  food  we  had 
brought  from  Callander,  set  our  faces  towards  the  head  of 
Loch  Ketterine.  I  can  add  nothing  to  my  former  description 
of  the  Trossachs,  except  that  we  departed  with  our  old 
delightful  remembrances  endeared,  and  many  new  ones. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  221 

The  path  or  road — for  it  was  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  but  something  between  both — is  the  pleasantest  I 
have  ever  travelled  in  my  life  for  the  same  length  of  way, — 
now  with  marks  of  sledges  or  wheels,  or  none  at  all,  bare 
or  green,  as  it  might  happen ;  now  a  little  descent,  now  a 
level ;  sometimes  a  shady  lane,  at  others  an  open  track 
through  green  pastures  ;  then  again  it  would  lead  us  into 
thick  coppice-woods,  which  often  entirely  shut  out  the 
lake,  and  again  admitted  it  by  glimpses.  We  have  never 
had  a  more  delightful  walk  than  this  evening.  Ben 
Lomond  and  the  three  pointed-topped  mountains  of  Loch 
Lomond,  which  we  had  seen  from  the  Garrison,  were  very 
majestic  under  the  clear  sky,  the  lake  perfectly  calm,  the 
air  sweet  and  mild.  I  felt  that  it  was  much  more  interesting 
to  visit  a  place  where  we  have  been  before  than  it  can  pos- 
sibly be  the  first  time,  except  under  peculiar  circumstances. 
The  sun  had  been  set  for  some  time,  when,  being  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  ferryman's  hut,  our  path  having 
led  us  close  to  the  shore  of  the  calm  lake,  we  met  two 
neatly  dressed  women,  without  hats,  who  had  probably  been 
taking  their  Sunday  evening's  walk.  One  of  them  said  to 
us  in  a  friendly,  soft  tone  of  voice,  '  What !  you  are  stepping 
westward  ? '  I  cannot  describe  how  affecting  this  simple 
expression  was  in  that  remote  place,  with  the  western  sky 
in  front,  yet  glowing  with  the  departed  sun.  William 
wrote  the  following  poem  long  after,  in  remembrance  of 
his  feelings  and  mine: — 

'  What !  you  are  stepping  westward  V     Yea, 

'Twould  be  a  wildish  destiny 

If  we,  who  thus  together  roam 

In  a  strange  land,  and  far  from  home, 


222  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Were  in  this  place  the  guests  of  chance  : 
Yet  who  would  stop,  or  fear  to  advance, 
Though  home  or  shelter  he  had  none, 
With  such  a  sky  to  lead  him  on  1 

The  dewy  ground  was  dark  and  cold, 

Behind  all  gloomy  to  behold, 

And  stepping  westward  seem'd  to  be 

A  kind  of  heavenly  destiny  ; 

I  liked  the  greeting,  'twas  a  sound 

Of  something  without  place  or  bound  ; 

And  seem'd  to  give  me  spiritual  right 

To  travel  through  that  region  bright. 

The  voice  was  soft ;  and  she  who  spake 

Was  walking  by  her  native  Lake ; 

The  salutation  was  to  me 

The  very  sound  of  courtesy  ; 

Its  power  was  felt,  and  while  my  eye 

Was  fix'd  upon  the  glowing  sky, 

The  echo  of  the  voice  enwrought 

A  human  sweetness  with  the  thought 

Of  travelling  through  the  world  that  lay 

Before  me  in  my  endless  way. 

We  went  up  to  the  door  of  our  boatman's  hut  as  to  a 
home,  and  scarcely  less  confident  of  a  cordial  welcome  than  if 
we  had  been  approaching  our  own  cottage  at  Grasmere. 
It  had  been  a  very  pleasing  thought,  while  we  were  walk- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  beautiful  lake,  that,  few  hours  as  we 
had  been  there,  there  was  a  home  for  us  in  one  of  its  quiet 
dwellings.  Accordingly,  so  we  found  it ;  the  good  woman, 
who  had  been  at  a  preaching  by  the  lake-side,  was  in  her 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  223 

holiday  dress  at  the  door,  and  seemed  to  be  rejoiced  at  the 
sight  of  us.  She  led  us  into  the  hut  in  haste  to  supply  our 
wants ;  we  took  once  more  a  refreshing  meal  by  her  fire- 
side, and,  though  not  so  merry  as  the  last  time,  we  were 
not  less  happy,  bating  our  regrets  that  Coleridge  was  not 
in  his  old  place.  I  slept  in  the  same  bed  as  before,  and 
listened  to  the  household  stream,  which  now  only  made  a 
very  low  murmuring. 

Monday,  September  12th. — Eejoiced  in  the  morning  to 
see  the  sun  shining  upon  the  hills  when  I  first  looked  out 
through  the  open  window-place  at  my  bed's  head.  We 
rose  early,  and  after  breakfast,  our  old  companion,  who 
was  to  be  our  guide  for  the  day,  rowed  us  over  the  water 
to  the  same  point  where  Coleridge  and  I  had  sate  down 
and  eaten  our  dinner,  while  William  had  gone  to  survey 
the  unknown  coast.  We  intended  to  cross  Loch  Lomond, 
follow  the  lake  to  Glenfalloch,  above  the  head  of  it,  and 
then  come  over  the  mountains  to  Glengyle,  and  so  down 
the  glen,  and  passing  Mr.  Macfarlane's  house,  back  again 
to  the  ferry-house,  where  we  should  sleep.  So,  a  third 
time  we  went  through  the  mountain  hollow,  now  familiar 
ground.  The  inhabitants  had  not  yet  got  in  all  their  hay, 
and  were  at  work  in  the  fields ;  our  guide  often  stopped 
to  talk  with  them,  and  no  doubt  was  called  upon  to 
answer  many  inquiries  respecting  us  two  strangers. 

At  the  ferry -house  of  Inversneyde  we  had  not  the  happy 
sight  of  the  Highland  girl  and  her  companion,  but  the 
good  woman  received  us  cordially,  gave  me  milk,  and 
talked  of  Coleridge,  who,  the  morning  after  we  parted  from 
him,  had  been  at  her  house  to  fetch  his  watch,  which  he 
had  forgotten  two  days  before.  He  has  since  told  me 


224  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

that  he  questioned  her  respecting  the  miserable  condition 
of  her  hut,  which,  as  you  may  remember,  admitted  the  rain 
at  the  door,  and  retained  it  in  the  hollows  of  the  mud 
floor :  he  told  her  how  easy  it  would  be  to  remove  these 
inconveniences,  and  to  contrive  something,  at  least,  to  pre- 
vent the  wind  from  entering  at  the  window-places,  if  not  a 
glass  window  for  light  and  warmth  by  day.  She  replied 
that  this  was  very  true,  but  if  they  made  any  improvements 
the  laird  would  conclude  that  they  were  growing  rich,  and 
would  raise  their  rent. 

The  ferryman  happened  to  be  just  ready  at  the  moment 
to  go  over  the  lake  with  a  poor  man,  his  wife  and  child. 
The  little  girl,  about  three  years  old,  cried  all  the  way, 
terrified  by  the  water.  When  we  parted  from  this  family, 
they  going  down  the  lake,  and  we  up  it,  I  could  not  but 
think  of  the  difference  in  our  condition  to  that  poor 
woman,  who,  with  her  husband,  had  been  driven  from  her 
home  by  want  of  work,  and  was  now  going  a  long  journey 
to  seek  it  elsewhere  :  every  step  was  painful  toil,  for  she 
had  either  her  child  to  bear  or  a  heavy  burthen.  /  walked 
as  she  did,  but  pleasure  was  my  object,  and  if  toil  came 
along  with  it,  even  that  was  pleasure, — pleasure,  at  least, 
it  would  be  in  the  remembrance. 

We  were,  I  believe,  nine  miles  from  Glenfalloch  when 
we  left  the  boat.  To  us,  with  minds  at  ease,  the  walk 
was  delightful ;  it  could  not  be  otherwise,  for  we  passed 
by  a  continual  succession  of  rocks,  woods,  and  mountains ; 
but  the  houses  were  few,  and  the  ground  cultivated  only 
in  small  portions  near  the  water,  consequently  there  was 
not  that  sort  of  variety  which  leaves  distinct  separate  re- 
membrances, but  one  impression  of  solitude  and  greatness. 
While  the  Highlander  and  I  were  plodding  on  together 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  225 

side  by  side,  interspersing  long  silences  with  now  and 
then  a  question  or  a  remark,  looking  down  to  the  lake  he 
espied  two  small  rocky  islands,  and  pointing  to  them,  said 
to  me,  'It  will  be  gay*  and  dangerous  sailing  there  in 
stormy  weather  when  the  water  is  high.'  In  giving  my 
assent  I  could  not  help  smiling,  but  I  afterwards  found 
that  a  like  combination  of  words  is  not  uncommon  in 
Scotland,  for,  at  Edinburgh,  William  being  afraid  of  rain, 
asked  the  ostler  what  he  thought,  who,  looking  up  to  the 
sky,  pronounced  it  to  '  be  gay  and  dull,'  and  therefore  rain 
might  be  expected.  The  most  remarkable  object  we  saw 
was  a  huge  single  stone,  I  believe  three  or  four  times  the 
size  of  Bowder  Stone.t  The  top  of  it,  which  on  one  side 
was  sloping  like  the  roof  of  a  house,  was  covered  with 
heather.  "William  climbed  up  the  rock,  which  would  have 
been  no  easy  task  but  to  a  mountaineer,  and  we  con- 
structed a  rope  of  pocket-handkerchiefs,  garters,  plaids,  coats, 
etc.,  and  measured  its  height.  It  was  50  many  times  the 
length  of  "William's  walking-stick,  but,  unfortunately,  hav- 
ing lost  the  stick,  we  have  lost  the  measure.  The  ferry- 
man told  us  that  a  preaching  was  held  there  once  in  three 
months  by  a  certain  minister — I  think  of  Arrochar — who 
engages,  as  a  part  of  his  office,  to  perform  the  service. 
The  interesting  feelings  we  had  connected  with  the  Highland 
Sabbath  and  Highland  worship  returned  here  with  double 
force.  The  rock,  though  on  one  side  a  high  perpendicular 
wall,  in  no  place  overhung  so  as  to  form  a  shelter,  in  no 
place  could  it  be  more  than  a  screen  from  the  elements. 
Why  then  had  it  been  selected  for  such  a  purpose  ?  Was 
it  merely  from  being  a  central  situation  and  a  conspicuous 

*  This  is  none  other  than  the  well-known  Scottish  word  'gey,'—  indiffer- 
ently, tolerable,  considerable.— Ed.  t  See  Appendix  F. 

P 


226  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

object?  Or  did  there  belong  to  it  some  inheritance  of 
superstition  from  old  times  ?  It  is  impossible  to  look  at 
the  stone  without  asking,  How  came  it  hither  ?  Had  then 
that  obscurity  and  unaccountableness,  that  mystery  of 
power  which  is  about  it,  any  influence  over  the  first  persons 
who  resorted  hither  for  worship  ]  Or  have  they  now  on 
those  who  continue  to  frequent  it  1  The  lake  is  in  front 
of  the  perpendicular  wall,  and  behind,  at  some  distance, 
and  totally  detached  from  it,  is  the  continuation  of  the 
ridge  of  mountain  which  forms  the  vale  of  Loch  Lomond — 
a  magnificent  temple,  of  which  this  spot  is  a  noble  Sanctum 
Sanctorum, 

We  arrived  at  Glenfalloch  at  about  one  or  two  o'clock. 
It  is  no  village ;  there  being  only  scattered  huts  in  the 
glen,  which  may  be  four  miles  long,  according  to  my 
remembrance  :  the  middle  of  it  is  very  green,  and  level, 
and  tufted  with  trees.  Higher  up,  where  the  glen  parts 
into  two  very  narrow  ones,  is  the  house  of  the  laird  ;  I 
daresay  a  pretty  place.  The  view  from  the  door  of  the 
public-house  is  exceedingly  beautiful ;  the  river  flows 
smoothly  into  the  lake,  and  the  fields  were  at  that  time 
as  green  as  possible.  Looking  backward,  Ben  Lomond 
very  majestically  shuts  in  the  view.  The  top  of  the 
mountain,  as  seen  here,  being  of  a  pyramidal  form,  it  is 
much  grander  than  with  the  broken  outline,  and  stage 
above'  stage,  as  seen  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Luss.  We 
found  nobody  at  home  at  the  inn,  but  the  ferryman 
shouted,  wishing  to  have  a  glass  of  whisky,  and  a  young 
woman  came  from  the  hay-field,  dressed  in  a  white  bed- 
gown, without  hat  or  cap.  There  was  no  whisky  in  the 
house,  so  he  begged  a  little  whey  to  drink  with  the  frag- 
ments of  our  cold  meat  brought  from  Callander.  After  a 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  227 

short  rest  in  a  cool  parlour  we  set  forward  again,  having 
to  cross  the  river  and  climb  up  a  steep  mountain  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  valley.  I  observed  that  the  people 
were  busy  bringing  in  the  hay  before  it  was  dry  into  a 
sort  of  '  fauld  '  or  yard,  where  they  intended  to  leave  it, 
ready  to  be  gathered  into  the  house  with  the  first  threaten- 
ing of  rain,  and  if  not  completely  dry  brought  out  again. 
Our  guide  bore  me  in  his  arms  over  the  stream,  and  we 
soon  came  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  The  most  easy 
rising,  for  a  short  way  at  first,  was  near  a  naked  rivulet 
which  made  a  fine  cascade  in  one  place.  Afterwards,  the 
ascent  was  very  laborious,  being  frequently  almost  perpen- 
dicular. 

It  is  one  of  those  moments  which  I  shall  not  easily  forget, 
when  at  that  point  from  which  a  step  or  two  would  have  car- 
ried us  out  of  sight  of  the  green  fields  of  Glenfalloch,  being 
at  a  great  height  on  the  mountain,  we  sate  down,  and  heard, 
as  if  from  the  heart  of  the  earth,  the  sound  of  torrents 
ascending  out  of  the  long  hollow  glen.  To  the  eye  all  was 
motionless,  a  perfect  stillness.  The  noise  of  waters  did 
not  appear  to  come  this  way  or  that,  from  any  particular 
quarter:  it  was  everywhere,  almost,  one  might  say,  as  if 
'  exhaled '  through  the  whole  surface  of  the  green  earth. 
Glenfalloch,  Coleridge  has  since  told  me,  signifies  the 
Hidden  Vale ;  but  William  says,  if  we  were  to  name  it 
from  our  recollections  of  that  time,  we  should  call  it  the 
Vale  of  Awful  Sound.  We  continued  to  climb  higher  and 
higher ;  but  the  hill  was  no  longer  steep,  and  afterwards 
we  pursued  our  way  along  the  top  of  it  with  many  small 
ups  and  downs.  The  walk  was  very  laborious  after  the 
climbing  was  over,  being  often  exceedingly  stony,  or 
through  swampy  moss,  rushes,  or  rough  heather.  As  we 


228  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

proceeded,  continuing  our  way  at  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
encircled  by  higher  mountains  at  a  great  distance,  we 
were  passing,  without  notice,  a  heap  of  scattered  stones 
round  which  was  a  belt  of  green  grass — green,  and  as  it 
seemed  rich,  where  all  else  was  either  poor  heather  and 
coarse  grass,  or  unprofitable  rushes  and  spongy  moss.  The 
Highlander  made  a  pause,  saying,  '  This  place  is  much 
changed  since  I  was  here  twenty  years  ago.'  He  told  us 
that  the  heap  of  stones  had  been  a  hut  where  a  family 
was  then  living,  who  had  their  winter  habitation  in  the 
valley,  and  brought  their  goats  thither  in  the  summer  to 
feed  on  the  mountains,  and  that  they  were  used  to  gather 
them  together  at  night  and  morning  to  be  milked  close 
to  the  door,  which  was  the  reason  why  the  grass  was 
yet  so  green  near  the  stones.  It  was  affecting  in  that 
solitude  to  meet  with  this  memorial  of  manners  passed 
away ;  we  looked  about  for  some  other  traces  of  humanity, 
but  nothing  else  could  we  find  in  that  place.  We  ourselves 
afterwards  espied  another  of  those  ruins,  much  more  exten- 
sive— the  remains,  as  the  man  told  us,  of  several  dwellings. 
We  were  astonished  at  the  sagacity  with  which  our  High- 
lander discovered  the  track,  where  often  no  track  was 
visible  to  us,  and  scarcely  even  when  he  pointed  it  out. 
It  reminded  us  of  what  we  read  of  the  Hottentots  and  other 
savages.  He  went  on  as  confidently  as  if  it  had  been  a 
turnpike  road — the  more  surprising,  as  when  he  was  there 
before  it  must  have  been  a  plain  track,  for  he  told  us  that 
fishermen  from  Arrochar  carried  herrings  regularly  over 
the  mountains  by  that  way  to  Loch  Ketterine  when  the 
glens  were  much  more  populous  than  now. 

Descended  into  Glengyle,  above  Loch  Ketterine,  and 
passed  through  Mr.  Macfarlane's  grounds,  that  is,  through 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  229 

the  whole  of  the  glen,  where  there  was  now  no  house  left 
but  his.  "We  stopped  at  his  door  to  inquire  after  the 
family,  though  with  little  hope  of  finding  them  at  home, 
having  seen  a  large  company  at  work  in  a  hay-field,  whom 
we  conjectured  to  be  his  whole  household — as  it  proved, 
except  a  servant-maid,  who  answered  our  inquiries.  We 
had  sent  the  ferryman  forward  from  the  head  of  the  glen 
to  bring  the  boat  round  from  the  place  where  he  left  it  to 
the  other  side  of  the  lake.  Passed  the  same  farm-house 
we  had  such  good  reason  to  remember,  and  went  up  to  the 
burying-ground  that  stood  so  sweetly  near  the  water-side. 
The  ferryman  had  told  us  that  Rob  Roy's  grave  was  there,14 
so  we  could  not  pass  on  without  going  up  to  the  spot. 
There  were  several  tomb-stones,  but  the  inscriptions  were 
either  worn-out  or  unintelligible  to  us,  and  the  place  choked 
up  with  nettles  and  brambles.  You  will  remember  the 
description  I  have  given  of  the  spot.  I  have  nothing  here 
to  add,  except  the  following  poem  which  it  suggested  to 
William  : — 

A  famous  Man  is  Robin  Hood, 
The  English  Ballad-singer's  joy, 
And  Scotland  boasts  of  one  as  good, 
She  has  her  own  Rob  Roy ! 

Then  clear  the  weeds  from  off  his  grave, 
And  let  us  chaunt  a  passing  stave 
In  honour  of  that  Outlaw  brave. 

Heaven  gave  Rob  Roy  a  daring  heart 
And  wondrous  length  and  strength  of  arm, 
Nor  craved  he  more  to  quell  his  foes, 
Or  keep  his  friends  from  harm. 


230  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Yet  Robin  was  as  wise  as  brave, 
As  wise  in  thought  as  bold  in  deed, 
For  in  the  principles  of  things 
He  sought  his  moral  creed. 

Said  generous  Eob,  '  What  need  of  books  ] 
Burn  all  the  statutes  and  their  shelves  : 
They  stir  us  up  against  our  kind, 
And  worse,  against  ourselves. 

'  We  have  a  passion ;  make  a  law, 
Too  false  to  guide  us  or  control : 
And  for  the  law  itself  we  fight 
In  bitterness  of  soul. 

'  And  puzzled,  blinded  thus,  we  lose 
Distinctions  that  are  plain  and  few  : 
These  find  I  graven  on  my  heart : 
That  tells  me  what  to  do. 

'  The  Creatures  see  of  flood  and  field, 
And  those  that  travel  on  the  wind  ! 
With  them  no  strife  can  last ;  they  live 
In  peace,  and  peace  of  mind. 

'  For  why  ?     Because  the  good  old  rule 
Suffices  them,  the  simple  plan 
That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
And  they  should  keep  who  can. 

'  A  lesson  which  is  quickly  learn'd, 
A  signal  this  which  all  can  see ! 
Thus  nothing  here  provokes  the  strong 
To  tyrannous  cruelty. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  231 

'  And  freakishness  of  mind  is  check'd  ; 
He  tamed  who  foolishly  aspires, 
While  to  the  measure  of  their  might 
All  fashion  their  desires. 

• 

'  All  kinds  and  creatures  stand  and  fall 
By  strength  of  prowess  or  of  wit, 
Tis  God's  appointment  who  must  sway, 
And  who  is  to  submit. 

'  Since  then,'  said  Eobin,  '  right  is  plain, 
And  longest  life  is  but  a  day ; 
To  have  my  ends,  maintain  my  rights, 
I  '11  take  the  shortest  way.' 

And  thus  among  these  rocks  he  lived 
Through  summer's  heat  and  winter's  snow ; 
The  Eagle,  he  was  lord  above, 
And  Rob  was  lord  below. 

So  was  it — would  at  least  have  been 
But  through  untowardness  of  fate ; 
For  polity  was  then  too  strong  : 
He  came  an  age  too  late. 

Or  shall  we  say  an  age  too  soon  1 
For  were  the  bold  man  living  now, 
How  might  he  flourish  in  his  pride 
With  buds  on  every  bough  ? 

Then  Rents  and  Land-marks,  Rights  of  chase, 
Sheriffs  and  Factors,  Lairds  and  Thanes, 
Would  all  have  seem'd  but  paltry  things 
Not  worth  a  moment's  pains. 


232  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Rob  Roy  had  never  linger'd  here, 
To  these  few  meagre  vales  confined, 
But  thought  how  wide  the  world,  the  times 
How  fairly  to  his  mind. 

And  to  his  Sword  he  would  have  said, 
'  Do  thou  my  sovereign  will  enact 
From  land  to  land  through  half  the  earth ; 
Judge  thou  of  law  and  fact. 

'  'Tis  fit  that  we  should  do  our  part ; 
Becoming  that  mankind  should  learn 
That  we  are  not  to  be  surpass'd 
In  fatherly  concern. 

*  Of  old  things  all  are  over  old, 
Of  good  things  none  are  good  enough ; 
I  '11  shew  that  I  can  help  to  frame 
A  world  of  other  stuff. 

'  I,  too,  will  have  my  Kings  that  take 
From  me  the  sign  of  life  and  death, 
Kingdoms  shall  shift  about  like  clouds 
Obedient  to  my  breath.' 

And  if  the  word  had  been  fulfill'd 
As  might  have  been,  then,  thought  of  joy  ! 
France  would  have  had  her  present  Boast, 
And  we  our  brave  Rob  Roy. 

Oh !  say  not  so,  compare  them  not ; 
I  would  not  wrong  thee,  Champion  brave ! 
Would  wrong  thee  nowhere ;  least  of  all 
Here,  standing  by  thy  Grave. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  233 

For  thou,  although  with  some  wild  thoughts, 
Wild  Chieftain  of  a  savage  Clan, 
Hadst  this  to  boast  of — thou  didst  love 
The  Liberty  of  Man. 

And  had  it  been  thy  lot  to  live 
With  us  who  now  behold  the  light, 
Thou  wouldst  have  nobly  stirr'd  thyself, 
And  battled  for  the  right. 

For  Eobin  was  the  poor  man's  stay ; 
The  poor  man's  heart,  the  poor  man's  hand, 
And  all  the  oppress'd  who  wanted  strength 
Had  Robin's  to  command. 

Bear  witness  many  a  pensive  sigh 
Of  thoughtful  Herdsman  when  he  strays 
Alone  upon  Loch  Veol's  heights, 
And  by  Loch  Lomond's  Braes. 

And  far  and  near,  through  vale  and  hill, 
Are  faces  that  attest  the  same ; 
Kindling  with  instantaneous  joy 
At  sound  of  Rob  Roy's  name. 

Soon  after  we  saw  our  boat  coming  over  the  calm  water. 
It  was  late  in  the  evening,  and  I  was  stiff  and  weary,  as 
well  I  might,  after  such  a  long  and  toilsome  walk,  so  it  was 
no  poor  gratification  to  sit  down  and  be  conscious  of  ad- 
vancing in  our  journey  without  further  labour.  The  stars 
were  beginning  to  appear,  but  the  brightness  of  the  west 
was  not  yet  gone ; — the  lake  perfectly  still,  and  when  we 
first  went  into  the  boat  we  rowed  almost  close  to  the  shore 


234  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

under  steep  crags  hung  with  birches :  it  was  like  a  new- 
discovered  country  of  which  we  had  not  dreamed,  for  in 
walking  down  the  lake,  owing  to  the  road  in  that  part 
being  carried  at  a  considerable  height  on  the  hill-side,  the 
rocks  and  the  indentings  of  the  shore  had  been  hidden  from 
us.  At  this  time,  those  rocks  and  their  images  in  the 
calm  water  composed  one  mass,  the  surfaces  of  both  equally 
distinct,  except  where  the  water  trembled  with  the  motion 
of  our  boat.  Having  rowed  a  while  under  the  bold  steeps, 
we  launched  out  further  when  the  shores  were  no  longer 
abrupt.  We  hardly  spoke  to  each  other  as  we  moved  along 
receding  from  the  west,  which  diffused  a  solemn  animation 
over  the  lake.  The  sky  was  cloudless;  and  everything 
seemed  at  rest  except  our  solitary  boat,  and  the  mountain- 
streams, — seldom  heard,  and  but  faintly.  I  think  I  have 
rarely  experienced  a  more  elevated  pleasure  than  during 
our  short  voyage  of  this  night.  The  good  woman  had 
long  been  looking  out  for  us,  and  had  prepared  everything 
for  our  refreshment ;  and  as  soon  as  we  had  finished  supper, 
or  rather  tea,  we  went  to  bed.  William,  I  doubt  not,  rested 
well,  and,  for  my  part,  I  slept  as  soundly  on  my  chaff  bed 
as  ever  I  have  done  in  childhood  after  the  long  day's  play- 
ing of  a  summer's  holiday. 

Tuesday,  13th  September. — Again  a  fine  morning.  I 
strolled  into  the  green  field  in  which  the  house  stands 
while  the  woman  was  preparing  breakfast,  and  at  my  return 
found  one  of  her  neighbours  sitting  by  the  fire,  a  feeble 
paralytic  old  woman.  After  having  inquired  concerning 
our  journey  the  day  before,  she  said,  '  I  have  travelled  far 
in  my  time,'  and  told  me  she  had  married  an  English  soldier 
who  had  been  stationed  at  the  Garrison;  they  had  had 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  235 

many  children,  who  were  all  dead  or  in  foreign  countries ; 
and  she  had  returned  to  her  native  place,  where  now  she 
had  lived  several  years,  and  was  more  comfortable  than  she 
could  ever  have  expected  to  be,  being  very  kindly  dealt 
with  by  all  her  neighbours.  Pointing  to  the  ferryman 
and  his  wife,  she  said  they  were  accustomed  to  give  her  a 
day  of  their  labour  in  digging  peats,  in  common  with  others, 
and  in  that  manner  she  was  provided  with  fuel,  and,  by 
like  voluntary  contributions,  with  other  necessaries.  While 
this  infirm  old  woman  was  relating  her  story  in  a  tremu- 
lous voice,  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  changes  of  things, 
and  the  days  of  her  youth,  when  the  shrill  fife,  sounding 
from  the  walls  of  the  Garrison,  made  a  merry  noise  through 
the  echoing  hills.  I  asked  myself,  if  she  were  to  be  carried 
again  to  the  deserted  spot  after  her  course  of  life,  no  doubt 
a  troublesome  one,  would  the  silence  appear  to  her  the 
silence  of  desolation  or  of  peace  ] 

After  breakfast  we  took  a  final  leave  of  our  hostess,  and, 
attended  by  her  husband,  again  set  forward  on  foot.  My 
limbs  were  a  little  stiff,  but  the  morning  being  uncommonly 
fine  I  did  not  fear  to  aim  at  the  accomplishment  of  a  plan 
we  had  laid  of  returning  to  Callander  by  a  considerable 
circuit.  We  were  to  go  over  the  mountains  from  Loch  Ket- 
terine,  a  little  below  the  ferry-house  on  the  same  side  of 
the  water,  descending  to  Loch  Voil,  a  lake  from  which 
issues  the  stream  that  flows  through  Strath  Eyer  into  Loch 
Lubnaig.  Our  road,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  passing 
from  one  vale  into  another,  was  through  a  settling  between 
the  hills,  not  far  from  a  small  stream.  We  had  to  climb 
considerably,  the  mountain  being  much  higher  than  it  ap- 
pears to  be,  owing  to  its  retreating  in  what  looks  like  a 
gradual  slope  from  the  lake,  though  we  found  it  steep 


236  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

enough  in  the  climbing.  Our  guide  had  been  born  near 
Loch  Voil,  and  he  told  us  that  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  if 
we  would  look  about  for  it,  we  should  see  the  burying- 
place  of  a  part  of  his  family,  the  MacGregors,  a  clan  who 
had  long  possessed  that  district,  a  circumstance  which  he 
related  with  no  unworthy  pride  of  ancestry.  We  shook 
hands  with  him  at  parting,  not  without  a  hope  of  again 
entering  his  hut  in  company  with  others  whom  we  loved. 

Continued  to  walk  for  some  time  along  the  top  of  the 
hill,  having  the  high  mountains  of  Loch  Voil  before  us,  and 
Ben  Lomond  and  the  steeps  of  Loch  Ketterine  behind. 
Came  to  several  deserted  mountain  huts  or  shiels,  and  rested 
for  some  time  beside  one  of  them,  upon  a  hillock  of  its  green 
plot  of  monumental  herbage.  William  here  conceived  the 
notion  of  writing  an  ode  upon  the  affecting  subject  of  those 
relics  of  human  society  found  in  that  grand  and  solitary 
region.  The  spot  of  ground  where  we  sate  was  even  beautiful, 
the  grass  being  uncommonly  verdant,  and  of  a  remarkably 
soft  and  silky  texture. 

After  this  we  rested  no  more  till  we  came  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  where  there  was  a  cottage,  at  the  door  of 
which  a  woman  invited  me  to  drink  some  whey :  this  I 
did,  while  William  went  to  inquire  respecting  the  road  at  a 
new  stone  house  a  few  steps  further.  He  was  told  to  cross 
the  brook,  and  proceed  to  the  other  side  of  the  vale,  and 
that  no  further  directions  were  necessary,  for  we  should  find 
ourselves  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  on  a  plain  road  which 
would  lead  us  downward.  We  waded  the  river  and  crossed 
the  vale,  perhaps  half  a  mile  or  more.  The  mountains  all 
round  are  very  high ;  the  vale  pastoral  and  unenclosed,  not 
many  dwellings,  and  but  few  trees;  the  mountains  in 
general  smooth  near  the  bottom.  They  are  in  large  un- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  237 

broken  masses,  combining  with  the  vale  to  give  an  impres- 
sion of  bold  simplicity. 

Near  the  head  of  the  lake,  at  some  distance  from  us,  we 
discovered  the  burial-place  of  the  MacGregors,  and  did  not 
view  it  without  some  interest,  with  its  ornamental  balls 
on  the  four  corners  of  the  wall,  which,  I  daresay,  have  been 
often  looked  at  with  elevation  of  heart  by  our  honest  friend 
of  Loch  Ketterine.  The  lake  is  divided  right  across  by  a 
narrow  slip  of  flat  land,  making  a  small  lake  at  the  head  of 
the  large  one.  The  whole  may  be  about  five  miles  long. 

As  we  descended,  the  scene  became  more  fertile,  our 
way  being  pleasantly  varied — through  coppices  or  open 
fields,  and  passing  farm-houses,  though  always  with  an  inter- 
mixture of  uncultivated  ground.  It  was  harvest-time,  and 
the  fields  were  quietly — might  I  be  allowed  to  say  pensively  1 
— enlivened  by  small  companies  of  reapers.  It  is  not  un- 
common in  the  more  lonely  parts  of  the  Highlands  to  see 
a  single  person  so  employed.  The  following  poem  was 
suggested  to  William  by  a  beautiful  sentence  in  Thomas 
Wilkinson's  '  Tour  in  Scotland  : ' 15 — 

Behold  her  single  in  the  field, 
Yon  solitary  Highland  Lass, 
Reaping  and  singing  by  herself — 
Stop  here,  or  gently  pass. 
Alone  she  cuts  and  binds  the  grain, 
And  sings  a  melancholy  strain. 
Oh !  listen,  for  the  Vale  profound 
Is  overflowing  with  the  sound. 

No  nightingale  did  ever  chaunt 
So  sweetly  to  reposing  bands 
Of  travellers  in  some  shady  haunt 
Among  Arabian  Sands ; 


238  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

No  sweeter  voice  was  ever  heard 
In  spring-time  from  the  cuckoo-bird 
Breaking  the  silence  of  the  seas 
Among  the  farthest  Hebrides. 

Will  no  one  tell  me  what  she  sings  1 
Perhaps  the  plaintive  numbers  flow 
For  old  unhappy  far-off  things, 
And  battles  long  ago ; — 
Or  is  it  some  more  humble  lay — 
Familiar  matter  of  to-day — 
Some  natural  sorrow,  loss,  or  pain 
That  has  been,  and  may  be  again  ? 

Whate'er  the  theme,  the  Maiden  sung 
As  if  her  song  could  have  no  ending  ; 
I  saw  her  singing  at  her  work, 
And  o'er  the  sickle  bending ; 
I  listen'd  till  I  had  my  fill, 
And  as  I  mounted  up  the  hill 
The  music  in  my  heart  I  bore 
Long  after  it  was  heard  no  more. 

Towards  the  foot  of  the  lake,  on  the  opposite  side,  which 
was  more  barren  than  that  on  which  we  travelled,  was  a 
bare  road  up  a  steep  hill,  which  leads  to  Glen  Finlas,  for- 
merly a  royal  forest.  It  is  a  wild  and  rocky  glen,  as  we 
had  been  told  by  a  person  who  directed  our  notice  to  its 
outlet  at  Loch  Achray.  The  stream  which  passes  through  it 
falls  into  that  lake  near  the  head.  At  the  end  of  Loch 
Voil  the  vale  is  wide  and  populous — large  pastures  with 
many  cattle,  large  tracts  of  corn.  We  walked  downwards  a 
little  way,  and  then  crossed  over  to  the  same  road  along 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  239 

which  we  had  travelled  from  Loch  Erne  to  Callander, 
being  once  again  at  the  entrance  of  Strath  Eyer.  It  might 
be  about  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  we  were  ten 
miles  from  Callander,  exceedingly  tired,  and  wished  heartily 
for  the  poor  horse  and  car.  Walked  up  Strath  Eyer,  and 
saw  in  clear  air  and  sunshine  what  had  been  concealed 
from  us  when  we  travelled  before  in  the  mist  and  rain. 
We  found  it  less  woody  and  rich  than  it  had  appeared  to 
be,  but,  with  all  deductions,  a  very  sweet  valley. 

Not  far  from  Loch  Lubnaig,  though  not  in  view  of  it,  is 
a  long  village,  with  two  or  three  public-houses,  and  being 
in  despair  of  reaching  Callander  that  night  without  over- 
fatigue  we  resolved  to  stop  at  the  most  respectable-looking 
house,  and,  should  it  not  prove  wretched  indeed,  to  lodge 
there,  if  there  were  beds  for  us  :  at  any  rate,  it  was  necessary 
to  take  some  refreshment.  The  woman  of  the  house  spoke 
with  gentleness  and  civility,  and  had  a  good  countenance, 
which  reconciled  me  to  stay,  though  I  had  been  averse  to 
the  scheme,  dreading  the  dirt  usual  in  Scotch  public-houses 
by  the  way-side.  She  said  she  had  beds  for  us,  and  clean 
sheets,  and  we  desired  her  to  prepare  them  immediately. 
It  was  a  two-storied  house,  light  built,  though  in  other 
respects  no  better  than  the  huts,  and — as  all  the  slated  cot- 
tages are — much  more  uncomfortable  in  appearance,  except 
that  there  was  a  chimney  in  the  kitchen.  At  such  places 
it  is  fit  that  travellers  should  make  up  their  minds  to  wait 
at  least  an  hour  longer  than  the  time  necessary  to  prepare 
whatever  meal  they  may  have  ordered,  which  we,  I  may 
truly  say,  did  with  most  temperate  philosophy.  I  went  to 
talk  with  the  mistress,  who  was  making  barley  cakes,  which 
she  wrought  out  with  her  hands  as  thin  as  the  oaten  bread 
we  make  in  Cumberland*  I  asked  her  why  she  did  not 


240  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

use  a  rolling-pin,  and  if  it  would  not  be  much  more  con- 
venient, to  which  she  returned  me  no  distinct  answer,  and 
seemed  to  give  little  attention  to  the  question  :  she  did  not 
know,  or  that  was  what  they  were  used  to,  or  something 
of  the  sort.  It  was  a  tedious  process,  and  I  thought  could 
scarcely  have  been  managed  if  the  cakes  had  been  as  large 
as  ours ;  but  they  are  considerably  smaller,  which  is  a  great 
loss  of  time  in  the  baking. 

This  woman,  whose  common  language  was  the  Gaelic, 
talked  with  me  a  very  good  English,  asking  many  questions, 
yet  without  the  least  appearance  of  an  obtrusive  or  imper- 
tinent curiosity ;  and  indeed  I  must  say  that  I  never,  in 
those  women  with  whom  I  conversed,  observed  anything 
on  which  I  could  put  such  a  construction.  They  seemed 
to  have  a  faith  ready  for  all;  and  as  a  child,  when  you  are 
telling  him  stories,  asks  for  '  more,  more,'  so  they  appeared 
to  delight  in  being  amused  without  effort  of  their  own 
minds.  Among  other  questions  she  asked  me  the  old  one 
over  again,  if  I  was  married;  and  when  I  told  her  that  I  was 
not,  she  appeared  surprised,  and,  as  if  recollecting  herself, 
said  to  me,  with  a  pious  seriousness  and  perfect  simplicity, 
'  To  be  sure,  there  is  a  great  promise  for  virgins  in  Heaven ;' 
and  then  she  began  to  tell  how  long  she  had  been  married, 
that  she  had  had  a  large  family  and  much  sickness  and 
sorrow,  having  lost  several  of  her  children.  We  had  clean 
sheets  and  decent  beds. 

Wednesday,  September  llth. — Rose  early,  and  departed 
before  breakfast.  The  morning  was  dry,  but  cold. 
Travelled,  as  before,  along  the  shores  of  Loch  Lubnaig,  and 
along  the  pass  of  the  roaring  stream  of  Leny,  and  reached 
Callander  at  a  little  past  eight  o'clock.  After  breakfast  set 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  241 

off  towards  Stirling,  intending  to  sleep  there ;  the  distance 
eighteen  miles.  We  were  now  entering  upon  a  populous 
and  more  cultivated  country,  having  left  the  mountains 
behind,  therefore  I  shall  have  little  to  tell ;  for  what  is 
most  interesting  in  such  a  country  is  not  to  be  seen  in 
passing  through  it  as  we  did.  Half  way  between  Callan- 
der  and  Stirling  is  the  village  of  Doune,  and  a  little  further 
on  we  crossed  a  bridge  over  a  pleasant  river,  the  Teith. 
Above  the  river  stands  a  ruined  castle  of  considerable  size, 
upon  a  woody  bank.  We  wished  to  have  had  time  to  go 
up  to  the  ruin.  Long  before  we  reached  the  town  of 
Stirling,  saw  the  castle,  single,  on  its  stately  and  com- 
manding eminence.  The  rock  or  hill  rises  from  a  level  plain ; 
the  print  in  Stoddart's  book  does  indeed  give  a  good  notion 
of  its  form.  The  surrounding  plain  appears  to  be  of  a  rich 
soil,  well  cultivated.  The  crops  of  ripe  corn  were  abun- 
dant. We  found  the  town  quite  full ;  not  a  vacant  room 
in  the  inn,  it  being  the  time  of  the  assizes  :  there  was  no 
lodging  for  us,  and  hardly  even  the  possibility  of  getting 
anything  to  eat  in  a  bye-nook  of  the  house.  Walked  up 
to  the  castle.  The  prospect  from  it  is  very  extensive,  and 
must  be  exceedingly  grand  on  a  fine  evening  or  morning, 
with  the  light  of  the  setting  or  rising  sun  on  the  distant 
mountains,  but  we  saw  it  at  an  unfavourable  time  of  day, 
the  mid-afternoon,  and  were  not  favoured  by  light  and 
shade.  The  Forth  makes  most  intricate  and  curious  turn- 
ings, so  that  it  is  difficult  to  trace  them,  even  when  you 
are  overlooking  the  whole.  It  flows  through  a  perfect  level, 
and  in  one  place  cuts  its  way  in  the  form  of  a  large  figure 
of  eight.  Stirling  is  the  largest  town  we  had  seen  in 
Scotland,  except  Glasgow.  It  is  an  old  irregular  place ;  the 
streets  towards  the  castle  on  one  side  very  steep.  On  the 

Q 


242  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

other,  the  hill  or  rock  rises  from  the  fields.  The  architecture 
of  a  part  of  the  castle  is  very  fine,  and  the  whole  building 
in  good  repair :  some  parts  indeed,  are  modern.  At 
Stirling  we  bought  Burns' s  Poems  in  one  volume,  for  two 
shillings.  Went  on  to  Falkirk,  ten  or  eleven  miles.  I  do 
not  recollect  anything  remarkable  after  we  were  out  of 
sight  of  Stirling  Castle,  except  the  Carron  iron-works,  seen 
at  a  distance ; — the  sky  above  them  was  red  with  a  fiery 
light.  In  passing  through  a  turnpike  gate  we  were  greeted 
by  a  Highland  drover,  who,  with  many  others,  was  coming 
from  a  fair  at  Falkirk,  the  road  being  covered  all  along 
with  horsemen  and  cattle.  He  spoke  as  if  we  had  been  well 
known  to  him,  asking  us  how  we  had  fared  on  our  journey. 
We  were  at  a  loss  to  conceive  why  he  should  interest  him- 
self about  us,  till  he  said  he  had  passed  us  on  the  Black 
Mountain,  near  King's  House.  It  was  pleasant  to  observe 
the  effect  of  solitary  places  in  making  men  friends,  and  to 
see  so  much  kindness,  which  had  been  produced  in  such  a 
chance  encounter,  retained  in  a  crowd.  No  beds  in  the 
inns  at  Falkirk — every  room  taken  up  by  the  people  come 
to  the  fair.  Lodged  in  a  private  house,  a  neat  clean  place 
— kind  treatment  from  the  old  man  and  his  daughter. 

Thursday,  September  15th. — Breakfasted  at  Linlithgow,  a 
small  town.  The  house  is  yet  shown  from  which  the 
Regent  Murray  was  shot.  The  remains  of  a  royal  palace, 
where  Queen  Mary  was  born,  are  of  considerable  extent ; 
the  banks  of  gardens  and  fish-ponds  may  yet  be  distinctly 
traced,  though  the  whole  surface  is  transformed  into  smooth 
pasturage  where  cattle  graze.  The  castle  stands  upon  a 
gentle  eminence,  the  prospect  not  particularly  pleasing, 
though  not  otherwise  ;  it  is  bare  and  wide.  The  shell  of 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  243 

a  small  ancient  church  is  standing,  into  which  are  crammed 
modern  pews,  galleries,  and  pulpit — very  ugly,  and  discor- 
dant with  the  exterior.  Nothing  very  interesting  till  we 
came  to  Edinburgh.  Dined  by  the  way  at  a  small  town 
or  village  upon  a  hill,  the  back  part  of  the  houses  on  one 
side  overlooking  an  extensive  prospect  over  flat  corn  fields. 
I  mention  this  for  the  sake  of  a  pleasant  hour  we  passed 
sitting  on  the  bank,  where  we  read  some  of  Burns's  poems 
in  the  volume  which  we  had  bought  at  Stirling. 

Arrived  at  Edinburgh  a  little  before  sunset.  As  we 
approached,  the  castle  rock  resembled  that  of  Stirling — in 
the  same  manner  appearing  to  rise  from  a  plain  of  culti- 
vated ground,  the  Firth  of  Forth  being  on  the  other  side, 
and  not  visible.  Drove  to  the  White  Hart  in  the  Grass- 
market,  an  inn  which  had  been  mentioned  to  us,  and  which 
we  conjectured  would  better  suit  us  than  one  in  a  more 
fashionable  part  of  the  town.  It  was  not  noisy,  and  toler- 
ably cheap.  Drank  tea,  and  walked  up  to  the  Castle, 
which  luckily  was  very  near.  Much  of  the  daylight  was 
gone,  so  that  except  it  had  been  a  clear  evening,  which  it 
was  not,  we  could  not  have  seen  the  distant  prospect. 

Friday,  September  IQth. — The  sky  the  evening  before,  as 
you  may  remember  the  ostler  told  us,  had  been  '  gay  and 
dull,'  and  this  morning  it  was  downright  dismal :  very 
dark,  and  promising  nothing  but  a  wet  day,  and  before 
breakfast  was  over  the  rain  began,  though  not  heavily.  We 
set  out  upon  our  walk,  and  went  through  many  streets  to 
Holyrood  House,  and  thence  to  the  hill  called  Arthur's 
Seat,  a  high  hill,  very  rocky  at  the  top,  and  below  covered 
with  smooth  turf,  on  which  sheep  were  feeding.  We 
climbed  up  till  we  came  to  St.  Anthony's  Well  and  Chapel, 


244  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

as  it  is  called,  but  it  is  more  like  a  hermitage  than  a  chapel, 
— a  small  ruin,  which  from  its  situation  is  exceedingly  inter- 
esting, though  in  itself  not  remarkable.  We  sate  down  on 
a  stone  not  far  from  the  chapel,  overlooking  a  pastoral 
hollow  as  wild  and  solitary  as  any  in  the  heart  of  the  High- 
land mountains  :  there,  instead  of  the  roaring  of  torrents, 
we  listened  to  the  noises  of  the  city,  which  were  blended  in 
one  loud  indistinct  buzz, — a  regular  sound  in  the  air,  which 
in  certain  moods  of  feeling,  and  at  certain  times,  might  have 
a  more  tranquillizing  effect  upon  the  mind  than  those 
which  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  in  such  places.  The 
castle  rock  looked  exceedingly  large  through  the  misty  air : 
a  cloud  of  black  smoke  overhung  the  city,  which  combined 
with  the  rain  and  mist  to  conceal  the  shapes  of  the  houses, 
— an  obscurity  which  added  much  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
sound  that  proceeded  from  it.  It  was  impossible  to  think 
of  anything  that  was  little  or  mean,  the  goings-on  of  trade, 
the  strife  of  men,  or  every-day  city  business : — the  impres- 
sion was  one,  and  it  was  visionary;  like  the  conceptions  of 
our  childhood  of  Bagdad  or  Balsora  when  we  have  been 
reading  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments.  Though  the 
rain  was  very  heavy  we  remained  upon  the  hill  for  some 
time,  then  returned  by  the  same  road  by  which  we  had 
come,  through  green  flat  fields,  formerly  the  pleasure-grounds 
of  Holyrood  House,  on  the  edge  of  which  stands  the  old 
roofless  chapel,  of  venerable  architecture.  It  is  a  pity  that 
it  should  be  suffered  to  fall  down,  for  the  walls  appear  to 
be  yet  entire.  Very  near  to  the  chapel  is  Holyrood  House, 
which  we  could  not  but  lament  has  nothing  ancient  in  its 
appearance,  being  sash-windowed  and  not  an  irregular  pile. 
It  is  very  like  a  building  for  some  national  establishment, — 
a  hospital  for  soldiers  or  sailors.  You  have  a  description 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  245 

of  it  in  Stoddart's  Tour,  therefore  I  need  not  tell  you  what 
we  saw  there. 

When  we  found  ourselves  once  again  in  the  streets  of 
the  city,  we  lamented  over  the  heavy  rain,  and  indeed 
before  leaving  the  hill,  much  as  we  were  indebted  to  the 
accident  of  the  rain  for  the  peculiar  grandeur  and  affecting 
wildness  of  those  objects  we  saw,  we  could  not  but  regret 
that  the  Firth  of  Forth  was  entirely  hidden  from  us,  and 
all  distant  objects,  and  we  strained  our  eyes  till  they 
ached,  vainly  trying  to  pierce  through  the  thick  mist.  We 
walked  industriously  through  the  streets,  street  after  street, 
and,  in  spite  of  wet  and  dirt,  were  exceedingly  delighted. 
The  old  town,  with  its  irregular  houses,  stage  above  stage, 
seen  as  we  saw  it,  in  the  obscurity  of  a  rainy  day,  hardly 
resembles  the  work  of  men,  it  is  more  like  a  piling  up  of 
rocks,  and  I  cannot  attempt  to  describe  what  we  saw  so 
imperfectly,  but  must  say  that,  high  as  my  expectations 
had  been  raised,  the  city  of  Edinburgh  far  surpassed  all 
expectation.  Gladly  would  we  have  stayed  another  day, 
but  could  not  afford  more  time,  and  our  notions  of  the 
weather  of  Scotland  were  so  dismal,  notwithstanding  we 
ourselves  had  been  so  much  favoured,  that  we  had  no  hope 
of  its  mending.  So  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  we 
departed,  intending  to  sleep  at  an  inn  in  the  village  of 
Roslin,  about  five  miles  from  Edinburgh.  The  rain  con- 
tinued till  we  were  almost  at  Roslin;  but  then  it  was  quite 
dark,  so  we  did  not  see  the  castle  that  night. 

Saturday,  September  17th. — The  morning  very  fine.  We 
rose  early  and  walked  through  the  glen  of  Roslin,  past 
Hawthornden,  and  considerably  further,  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Walter  Scott  at  Lasswade.  Roslin  Castle  stands  upon 


246  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

a  woody  bank  above  a  stream,  the  North  Esk,  too  large,  I 
think,  to  be  called  a  brook,  yet  an  inconsiderable  river. 
We  looked  down  upon  the  ruin  from  higher  ground. 
Near  it  stands  the  chapel,  a  most  elegant  building,  a  ruin, 
though  the  walls  and  roof  are  entire.  I  never  passed 
through  a  more  delicious  dell  than  the  glen  of  Roslin, 
though  the  water  of  the  stream  is  dingy  and  muddy.  The 
banks  are  rocky  on  each  side,  and  hung  with  pine  wood. 
About  a  mile  from  the  castle,  on  the  contrary  side  of  the 
water,  upon  the  edge  of  a  very  steep  bank,  stands  Haw- 
thornden,  the  house  of  Drummond  the  poet,  whither  Ben 
Jonson  came  on  foot  from  London  to  visit  his  friend.  We 
did  hear  to  whom  the  house  at  present  belongs,  and  some 
other  particulars,  but  I  have  a  very  indistinct  recollection 
of  what  was  told  us,  except  that  many  old  trees  had  been 
lately  cut  down.  After  Hawthornden  the  glen  widens, 
ceases  to  be  rocky,  and  spreads  out  into  a  rich  vale,  scat- 
tered over  with  gentlemen's  seats. 

Arrived  at  Lasswade  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scott  had 
risen,  and  waited  some  time  in  a  large  sitting-room. 
Breakfasted  with  them,  and  stayed  till  two  o'clock,  and 
Mr.  Scott  accompanied  us  back  almost  to  Roslin,  having 
given  us  directions  respecting  our  future  journey,  and  pro- 
mised to  meet  us  at  Melrose  two  days  after.* 

We  ordered  dinner  on  our  return  to  the  inn,  and 
went  to  view  the  inside  of  the  chapel  of  Roslin,  which  is 
kept  locked  up,  and  so  preserved  from  the  injuries  it  might 
otherwise  receive  from  idle  boys ;  but  as  nothing  is  done 

*  See  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott  for  an  account  of  this  visit,  vol.  i.  p. 
402-7.  Mr.  L.  says,  '  I  have  drawn  up  the  account  of  this  meeting  from 
my  recollection,  partly  of  Mr.  W.'s  conversation,  partly  from  that  of  his 
sister's  charming  "  Diary,"  which  he  was  so  kind  as  to  read  to  me  on  the 
16th  May  1836.  '-Ed. 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  247 

to  keep  it  together,  it  must  in  the  end  fall.  The  archi- 
tecture within  is  exquisitely  beautiful.  The  stone  both  of 
the  roof  and  walls  is  sculptured  with  leaves  and  flowers,  so 
delicately  wrought  that  I  could  have  admired  them  for 
hours,  and  the  whole  of  their  groundwork  is  stained  by 
time  with  the  softest  colours.  Some  of  those  leaves  and 
flowers  were  tinged  perfectly  green,  and  at  one  part  the 
effect  was  most  exquisite  :  three  or  four  leaves  of  a  small 
fern,  resembling  that  which  we  call  adder's  tongue,  grew 
round  a  cluster  of  them  at  the  top  of  a  pillar,  and  the 
natural  product  and  the  artificial  were  so  intermingled  that 
at  first  it  was  not  easy  to  distinguish  the  living  plant  from 
the  other,  they  being  of  an  equally  determined  green,  though 
the  fern  was  of  a  deeper  shade. 

We  set  forward  again  after  dinner.  The  afternoon  was 
pleasant.  Travelled  through  large  tracts  of  ripe  corn,  in- 
terspersed with  larger  tracts  of  moorland — the  houses  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  each  other,  no  longer  thatched 
huts,  but  farm-houses  resembling  those  of  the  farming 
counties  in  England,  having  many  corn-stacks  close  to 
them.  Dark  when  we  reached  Peebles ;  found  a  comfort- 
able old-fashioned  public-house,  had  a  neat  parlour,  and 
drank  tea. 


248  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 


SIXTH    WEEK. 

Sunday,  September  l&th. — The  town  of  Peebles  is  on  the 
banks  of  the  Tweed.  After  breakfast  walked  up  the  river 
to  Neidpath  Castle,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  town. 
The  castle  stands  upon  a  green  hill,  overlooking  the  Tweed, 
a  strong  square-towered  edifice,  neglected  and  desolate, 
though  not  in  ruin,  the  garden  overgrown  with  grass,  and 
the  high  walls  that  fenced  it  broken  down.  The  Tweed 
winds  between  green  steeps,  upon  which,  and  close  to 
the  river  side,  large  flocks  of  sheep  pasturing ;  higher  still 
are  the  grey  mountains;  but  I  need  not  describe  the  scene, 
for  William  has  done  it  better  than  I  could  do  in  a  sonnet 
which  he  wrote  the  same  day ;  the  five  last  lines,  at  least, 
of  his  poem  will  impart  to  you  more  of  the  feeling  of  the 
place  than  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  do : — 

Degenerate  Douglass  !  thou  unworthy  Lord 
Whom  mere  despite  of  heart  could  so  far  please, 
And  love  of  havoc  (for  with  such  disease 
Fame  taxes  him)  that  he  could  send  forth  word 
To  level  with  the  dust  a  noble  horde, 
A  brotherhood  of  venerable  trees, 
Leaving  an  ancient  Dome  and  Towers  like  these 
Beggar' d  and  outraged !     Many  hearts  deplored 
The  fate  of  those  old  trees ;  and  oft  with  pain 
The  Traveller  at  this  day  will  stop  and  gaze 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  249 

On  wrongs  which  Nature  scarcely  seems  to  heed; 
For  shelter'd  places,  bosoms,  nooks,  and  bays, 
And  the  pure  mountains,  and  the  gentle  Tweed, 
And  the  green  silent  pastures  yet  remain. 

/  was  spared  any  regret  for  the  fallen  woods  when  we 
were  there,  not  then  knowing  the  history  of  them.  The 
soft  low  mountains,  the  castle,  and  the  decayed  pleasure- 
grounds,  the  scattered  trees  which  have  been  left  in  differ- 
ent parts,  and  the  road  carried  in  a  very  beautiful  line 
along  the  side  of  the  hill,  with  the  Tweed  murmuring 
through  the  unfenced  green  pastures  spotted  with  sheep, 
together  composed  an  harmonious  scene,  and  I  wished  for 
nothing  that  was  not  there.  When  we  were  with  Mr. 
Scott  he  spoke  of  cheerful  days  he  had  spent  in  that  castle 
not  many  years  ago,  when  it  was  inhabited  by  Professor 
Ferguson  and  his  family,  whom  the  Duke  of  Queensberry, 
its  churlish  owner,  forced  to  quit  it.  We  discovered  a 
very  fine  echo  within  a  few  yards  of  the  building. 

The  town  of  Peebles  looks  very  pretty  from  the  road  in 
returning :  it  is  an  old  town,  built  of  grey  stone,  the  same 
as  the  castle.  Well-dressed  people  were  going  to  church. 
Sent  the  car  before,  and  walked  ourselves,  and  while  going 
along  the  main  street  William  was  called  aside  in  a  mys- 
terious manner  by  a  person  who  gravely  examined  him — 
whether  he  was  an  Irishman  or  a  foreigner,  or  what  he 
was ;  I  suppose  our  car  was  the  occasion  of  suspicion  at  a 
time  when  every  one  was  talking  of  the  threatened  inva- 
sion. We  had  a  day's  journey  before  us  along  the  banks 
of  the  Tweed,  a  name  which  has  been  sweet  to  my  ears 
almost  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember  anything.  After 
the  first  mile  or  two  our  road  was  seldom  far  from  the 


250  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

river,  which  flowed  in  gentleness,  though  perhaps  never 
silent ;  the  hills  on  either  side  high  and  sometimes  stony, 
but  excellent  pasturage  for  sheep.  In  some  parts  the  vale 
was  wholly  of  this  pastoral  character,  in  others  we  saw  ex- 
tensive tracts  of  corn  ground,  even  spreading  along  whole 
hill-sides,  and  without  visible  fences,  which  is  dreary  in  a 
flat  country;  but  there  is  no  dreariness  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tweed, — the  hills,  whether  smooth  or  stony,  uncultivated 
or  covered  with  ripe  corn,  had  the  same  pensive  softness. 
Near  the  corn  tracts  were  large  farm-houses,  with  many 
corn-stacks ;  the  stacks  and  house  and  out-houses  together, 
I  recollect,  in  one  or  two  places  upon  the  hills,  at  a  little 
distance,  seemed  almost  as  large  as  a  small  village  or  ham- 
let. It  was  a  clear  autumnal  day,  without  wind,  and, 
being  Sunday,  the  business  of  the  harvest  was  suspended, 
and  all  that  we  saw,  and  felt,  and  heard,  combined  to  ex- 
cite one  sensation  of  pensive  and  still  pleasure. 

Passed  by  several  old  halls  yet  inhabited,  and  others  in 
ruin ;  but  I  have  hardly  a  sufficiently  distinct  recollection 
of  any  of  them  to  be  able  to  describe  them,  and  I  now  at 
this  distance  of  time  regret  that  I  did  not  take  notes.  In 
one  very  sweet  part  of  the  vale  a  gate  crossed  the  road, 
which  was  opened  by  an  old  woman  who  lived  in  a  cottage 
close  to  it;  I  said  to  her,  'You  live  in  a  very  pretty  place!' 
'  Yes,'  she  replied,  '  the  water  of  Tweed  is  a  bonny  water.' 
The  lines  of  the  hills  are  flowing  and  beautiful,  the  reaches 
of  the  vale  long ;  in  some  places  appear  the  remains  of  a 
forest,  in  others  you  will  see  as  lovely  a  combination  of 
forms  as  any  traveller  who  goes  in  search  of  the  picturesque 
need  desire,  and  yet  perhaps  without  a  single  tree ;  or  at 
least  if  trees  there  are,  they  shall  be  very  few,  and  he 
shall  not  care  whether  they  are  there  or  not. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  251 

The  road  took  us  through  one  long  village,  but  I  do  not 
recollect  any  other;  yet  I  think  we  never  had  a  mile's 
length  before  us  without  a  house,  though  seldom  several 
cottages  together.  The  loneliness  of  the  scattered  dwell- 
ings, the  more  stately  edifices  decaying  or  in  ruin,  or,  if 
inhabited,  not  in  their  pride  and  freshness,  aided  the  general 
effect  of  the  gently  varying  scenes,  which  was  that  of  ten- 
der pensiveness;  no  bursting  torrents  when  we  were  there, 
but  the  murmuring  of  the  river  was  heard  distinctly,  often 
blended  with  the  bleating  of  sheep.  In  one  place  we  saw 
a  shepherd  lying  in  the  midst  of  a  flock  upon  a  sunny 
knoll,  with  his  face  towards  the  sky,  happy  picture  of 
shepherd  life. 

The  transitions  of  this  vale  were  all  gentle  except  one,  a 
scene  of  which  a  gentleman's  house  was  the  centre,  stand- 
ing low  in  the  vale,  the  hills  above  it  covered  with  gloomy 
fir  plantations,  and  the  appearance  of  the  house  itself, 
though  it  could  scarcely  be  seen,  was  gloomy.  There  was 
an  allegorical  air — a  person  fond  of  Spenser  will  understand 
me — in  this  uncheerful  spot,  single  in  such  a  country, 

'  The  house  was  hears'd  about  with  a  black  wood.' 

We  have  since  heard  that  it  is  the  residence  of  Lord 
Traquair,  a  Roman  Catholic  nobleman,  of  a  decayed 
family. 

We  left  the  Tweed  when  we  were  within  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  or  two  miles  of  Clovenford,  where  we  were  to 
lodge.  Turned  up  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  went  along  sheep- 
grounds  till  we  reached  the  spot — a  single  stone  house, 
without  a  tree  near  it  or  to  be  seen  from  it.  On  our 
mentioning  Mr.  Scott's  name  the  woman  of  the  house  showed 
us  all  possible  civility,  but  her  slowness  was  really  amus- 


252  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

ing.  I  should  suppose  it  is  a  house  little  frequented,  for 
there  is  no  appearance  of  an  inn.  Mr.  Scott,  who  she  told 
me  was  a  very  clever  gentleman,  '  goes  there  in  the  fishing 
season  ;'  but  indeed  Mr.  Scott  is  respected  everywhere  :  I 
believe  that  by  favour  of  his  name  one  might  be  hospitably 
entertained  throughout  all  the  borders  of  Scotland.  We 
dined  and  drank  tea — did  not  walk  out,  for  there  was 
no  temptation;  a  confined  barren  prospect  from  the 
window. 

At  Clovenford,  being  so  near  to  the  Yarrow,  we  could 
not  but  think  of  the  possibility  of  going  thither,  but  came 
to  the  conclusion  of  reserving  the  pleasure  for  some  future 
time,  in  consequence  of  which,  after  our  return,  William 
wrote  the  poem  which  I  shall  here  transcribe  : — 

From  Stirling  Castle  we  had  seen 
The  mazy  Forth  unravell'd, 
Had  trod  the  banks  of  Clyde  and  Tay, 
And  with  the  Tweed  had  travell'd. 
And  when  we  came  to  Clovenford, 
Then  said  my  winsome  Marrow, 
'  Whate'er  betide  we  '11  turn  aside 
And  see  the  Braes  of  Yarrow.' 

'  Let  Yarrow  Folk  frae  Selkirk  Town, 

Who  have  been  buying,  selling, 

Go  back  to  Yarrow  : — 'tis  their  own, 

Each  Maiden  to  her  dwelling. 

On  Yarrow's  banks  let  herons  feed, 

Hares  couch,  and  rabbits  burrow, 

But  we  will  downwards  with  the  Tweed, 

Nor  turn  aside  to  Yarrow. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  253 

'  There's  Gala  Water,  Leader  Haughs, 
Both  lying  right  before  us  ; 
And  Dryburgh,  where  with  chiming  Tweed 
The  lintwhites  sing  in  chorus. 
There 's  pleasant  Teviot  Dale,  a  land 
Made  blithe  with  plough  and  harrow, 
"Why  throw  away  a  needful  day, 
To  go  in  search  of  Yarrow  ? 

'  What 's  Yarrow  but  a  river  bare, 

That  glides  the  dark  hills  under  ] 

There  are  a  thousand  such  elsewhere, 

As  worthy  of  your  wonder.' 

Strange  words  they  seem'd  of  slight  and  scorn, 

My  true-love  sigh'd  for  sorrow, 

And  look'd  me  in  the  face  to  think 

I  thus  could  speak  of  Yarrow. 

'  Oh  !  green,'  said  I,  '  are  Yarrow's  Holms, 
And  sweet  is  Yarrow  flowing, 
Fair  hangs  the  apple  frae  the  rock, 
But  we  will  leave  it  growing. 
O'er  hilly  path  and  open  Strath 
We  '11  wander  Scotland  thorough, 
But  though  so  near  we  will  not  turn 
Into  the  Dale  of  Yarrow. 

*  Let  beeves  and  home-bred  kine  partake 
The  sweets  of  Burnmill  Meadow, 
The  swan  on  still  St.  Mary's  Lake 
Float  double,  swan  and  shadow. 
We  will  not  see  them,  will  not  go, 
To-day  nor  yet  to-morrow ; 
Enough  if  in  our  hearts  we  know 
There 's  such  a  place  as  Yarrow. 


254  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

'  Be  Yarrow  stream  unseen,  unknown, 
It  must,  or  we  shall  rue  it, 
We  have  a  vision  of  our  own, 
Ah !  why  should  we  undo  it  1 
The  treasured  dreams  of  times  long  past, 
We  '11  keep  them,  "  winsome  Marrow," 
For  when  we  're  there,  although  'tis  fair, 
'Twill  be  another  Yarrow. 

'  If  care  with  freezing  years  should  come, 

And  wandering  seem  but  folly, 

Should  we  be  loth  to  stir  from  home, 

And  yet  be  melancholy, 

Should  life  be  dull  and  spirits  low, 

'Twill  soothe  us  in  our  sorrow 

That  earth  has  something  yet  to  show — 

The  bonny  Holms  of  Yarrow.'* 

The  next  day  we  were  to  meet  Mr.  Scott,  and  again  join 
the  Tweed.  I  wish  I  could  have  given  you  a  better  idea 
of  what  we  saw  between  Peebles  and  this  place.  I  have 
most  distinct  recollections  of  the  effect  of  the  whole  day's 
journey ;  but  the  objects  are  mostly  melted  together  in  my 
memory,  and  though  I  should  recognise  them  if  we  revisit 
the  place,  I  cannot  call  them  out  so  as  to  represent  them 
to  you  with  distinctness.  William,  in  attempting  in  verse 
to  describe  this  part  of  the  Tweed,  says  of  it, 

More  pensive  in  sunshine 
Than  others  in  moonshine. 

which  perhaps  may  give  you  more  power  to  conceive  what 
it  is  than  all  I  have  said. 

*  See  Appendix  G. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  255 

Monday,  September  l$th. — "We  rose  early,  and  went  to 
Melrose,  six  miles,  before  breakfast.  After  ascending  a 
hill,  descended,  and  overlooked  a  dell,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  which  was  an  old  mansion,  surrounded  with  trees  and 
steep  gardens,  a  curious  and  pleasing,  yet  melancholy  spot ; 
for  the  house  and  gardens  were  evidently  going  to  decay, 
and  the  whole  of  the  small  dell,  except  near  the  house, 
was  unenclosed  and  uncultivated,  being  a  sheep-walk  to 
the  top  of  the  hills.  Descended  to  Gala  Water,  a  pretty 
stream,  but  much  smaller  than  the  Tweed,  into  which  the 
brook  flows  from  the  glen  I  have  spoken  of.  Near  the 
Gala  is  a  large  modern  house,  the  situation  very  pleasant, 
but  the  old  building  which  we  had  passed  put  to  shame 
the  fresh  colouring  and  meagre  outline  of  the  new  one. 
Went  through  a  part  of  the  village  of  Galashiels,  pleasantly 
situated  on  the  bank  of  the  stream ;  a  pretty  place  it  once 
has  been,  but  a  manufactory  is  established  there ;  and  a 
townish  bustle  and  ugly  stone  houses  are  fast  taking  place  of 
the  brown-roofed  thatched  cottages,  of  which  a  great  number 
yet  remain,  partly  overshadowed  by  trees.  Left  the  Gala, 
and,  after  crossing  the  open  country,  came  again  to  the 
Tweed,  and  pursued  our  way  as  before  near  the  river,  per- 
haps for  a  mile  or  two,  till  we  arrived  at  Melrose.  The 
valley  for  this  short  space  was  not  so  pleasing  as  before, 
the  hills  more  broken,  and  though  the  cultivation  was 
general,  yet  the  scene  was  not  rich,  while  it  had  lost  its 
pastoral  simplicity.  At  Melrose  the  vale  opens  out  wide ; 
but  the  hills  are  high  all  round — single  distinct  risings. 
After  breakfast  we  went  out,  intending  to  go  to  the  Abbey, 
and  in  the  street  met  Mr.  Scott,  who  gave  us  a  cordial 
greeting,  and  conducted  us  thither  himself.  He  was  here 
on  his  own  ground,  for  he  is  familiar  with  all  that  is 


256  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

known  of  the  authentic  history  of  Melrose  and  the  popular 
tales  connected  with  it.  He  pointed  out  many  pieces  of 
beautiful  sculpture  in  obscure  corners  which  would  have 
escaped  our  notice.  The  Abbey  has  been  built  of  a  pale 
red  stone;  that  part  which  was  first  erected  of  a  very 
durable  kind,  the  sculptured  flowers  and  leaves  and  other 
minute  ornaments  being  as  perfect  in  many  places  as  when 
first  wrought.  The  ruin  is  of  considerable  extent,  but  unfor- 
tunately it  is  almost  surrounded  by  insignificant  houses,  so 
that  when  you  are  close  to  it  you  see  it  entirely  separated 
from  many  rural  objects,  and  even  when  viewed  from  a 
distance  the  situation  does  not  seem  to  be  particularly 
happy,  for  the  vale  is  broken  and  disturbed,  and  the 
Abbey  at  a  distance  from  the  river,  so  that  you  do  not 
look  upon  them  as  companions  of  each  other.  And  surely 
this  is  a  national  barbarism :  within  these  beautiful  walls  is 
the  ugliest  church  that  was  ever  beheld — if  it  had  been  hewn 
out  of  the  side  of  a  hill  it  could  not  have  been  more  dismal ; 
there  was  no  neatness,  nor  even  decency,  and  it  appeared 
to  be  so  damp,  and  so  completely  excluded  from  fresh  air? 
that  it  must  be  dangerous  to  sit  in  it;  the  floor  is  unpaved, 
and  very  rough.  What  a  contrast  to  the  beautiful  and 
graceful  order  apparent  in  every  part  of  the  ancient  design 
and  workmanship !  Mr.  Scott  went  with  us  into  the 
gardens  and  orchard  of  a  Mr.  Riddel,  from  which  we  had 
a  very  sweet  view  of  the  Abbey  through  trees,  the  town 
being  entirely  excluded.  Dined  with  Mr.  Scott  at  the 
inn ;  he  was  now  travelling  to  the  assizes  at  Jedburgh  in 
his  character  of  Sheriff  of  Selkirk,  and  on  that  account,  as 
well  as  for  his  own  sake,  he  was  treated  with  great  respect, 
a  small  part  of  which  was  vouchsafed  to  us  as  his  friends, 
though  I  could  not  persuade  the  woman  to  show  me  the 


A   TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  257 

beds,  or  to  make  any  sort  of  promise  till  she  was  assured 
from  the  Sheriff  himself  that  he  had  no  objection  to  sleep 
in  the  same  room  with  William. 

Tuesday,  September  2Qth. — Mr.  Scott  departed  very  early 
for  Jedburgh,  and  we  soon  followed,  intending  to  go  by 
Dryburgh  to  Kelso.  It  was  a  fine  morning.  We  went 
without  breakfast,  being  told  that  there  was  a  public-house 
at  Dryburgh.  The  road  was  very  pleasant,  seldom  out  of 
sight  of  the  Tweed  for  any  length  of  time,  though  not 
often  close  to  it.  The  valley  is  not  so  pleasantly  defined 
as  between  Peebles  and  Clovenford,  yet  so  soft  and  beauti- 
ful, and  in  many  parts  pastoral,  but  that  peculiar  and 
pensive  simplicity  which  I  have  spoken  of  before  was 
wanting,  yet  there  was  a  fertility  chequered  with  wildness 
which  to  many  travellers  would  be  more  than  a  compensa- 
tion. The  reaches  of  the  vale  were  shorter,  the  turnings 
more  rapid,  the  banks  often  clothed  with  wood.  In  one 
place  was  a  lofty  scar,  at  another  a  green  promontory,  a 
small  hill  skirted  by  the  river,  the  hill  above  irregular  and 
green,  and  scattered  over  with  trees.  We  wished  we 
could  have  brought  the  ruins  of  Melrose  to  that  spot,  and 
mentioned  this  to  Mr.  Scott,  who  told  us  that  the  monks 
had  first  fixed  their  abode  there,  and  raised  a  temporary 
building  of  wood.  The  monastery  of  Melrose  was  founded 
by  a  colony  from  Rievaux  Abbey  in  Yorkshire,  which 
building  it  happens  to  resemble  in  the  colour  of  the  stone, 
and  I  think  partly  in  the  style  of  architecture,  but  is  much 
smaller,  that  is,  has  been  much  smaller,  for  there  is  not  at 
Rievaux  any  one  single  part  of  the  ruin  so  large  as  the 
remains  of  the  church  at  Melrose,  though  at  Rievaux  a  far 
more  extensive  ruin  remains.  It  is  also  much  grander, 

R 


258  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

and  the  situation  at  present  much  more  beautiful,  that 
ruin  not  having  suffered  like  Melrose  Abbey  from  the 
encroachments  of  a  town.  The  architecture  at  Melrose  is, 
I  believe,  superior  in  the  exactness  and  taste  of  some  of 
the  minute  ornamental  parts ;  indeed,  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  anything  more  delicate  than  the  workmanship, 
especially  in  the  imitations  of  flowers. 

We  descended  to  Dry  burgh  after  having  gone  a  con- 
siderable way  upon  high  ground.  A  heavy  rain  when  we 
reached  the  village,  and  there  was  no  public-house.  A 
well-dressed,  well-spoken  woman  courteously — shall  I  say 
charitably  ? — invited  us  into  her  cottage,  and  permitted  us 
to  make  breakfast ;  she  showed  us  into  a  neat  parlour, 
furnished  with  prints,  a  mahogany  table,  and  other  things 
which  I  was  surprised  to  see,  for  her  husband  was  only  a 
day-labourer,  but  she  had  been  Lady  Buchan's  waiting- 
maid,  which  acccounted  for  these  luxuries  and  for  a 
noticeable  urbanity  in  her  manners.  All  the  cottages  in 
this  neighbourhood,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  were  covered 
with  red  tiles,  and  had  chimneys.  After  breakfast  we  set 
out  in  the  rain  to  the  ruins  of  Dryburgh  Abbey,  which 
are  near  Lord  Buchan's  house,  and,  like  Bothwell  Castle, 
appropriated  to  the  pleasure  of  the  owner.  We  rang  a 
bell  at  the  gate,  and,  instead  of  a  porter,  an  old  woman 
came  to  open  it  through  a  narrow  side-alley  cut  in  a  thick 
plantation  of  evergreens.  On  entering,  saw  the  thatch  of 
her  hut  just  above  the  trees,  and  it  looked  very  pretty,  but 
the  poor  creature  herself  was  a  figure  to  frighten  a  child, 
— bowed  almost  double,  having  a  hooked  nose  and  over- 
hanging eyebrows,  a  complexion  stained  brown  with 
smoke,  and  a  cap  that  might  have  been  worn  for  months 
and  never  washed.  No  doubt  she  had  been  cowering  over 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  259 

her  peat  fire,  for  if  she  had  emitted  smoke  by  her  breath 
and  through  every  pore,  the  odour  could  not  have  been 
stronger.  This  ancient  woman,  by  right  of  office,  attended 
us  to  show  off  the  curiosities,  and  she  had  her  tale  as 
perfect,  though  it  was  not  quite  so  long  a  one,  as  the 
gentleman  Swiss,  whom  I  remember  to  have  seen  at  Blen- 
heim with  his  slender  wand  and  dainty  white  clothes. 
The  house  of  Lord  Buchan  and  the  Abbey  stand  upon  a 
large  flat  peninsula,  a  green  holm  almost  covered  with 
fruit-trees.  The  ruins  of  Dryburgh  are  much  less  exten- 
sive than  those  of  Melrose,  and  greatly  inferior  both  in 
the  architecture  and  stone,  which  is  much  mouldered  away. 
Lord  Buchan  has  trained  pear-trees  along  the  walls,  which 
are  bordered  with  flowers  and  gravel  walks,  and  he  has 
made  a  pigeon-house,  and  a  fine  room  in  the  ruin,  orna- 
mented with  a  curiously-assorted  collection  of  busts  of 
eminent  men,  in  which  lately  a  ball  was  given ;  yet,  de- 
ducting for  all  these  improvements,  which  are  certainly 
much  less  offensive  than  you  could  imagine,  it  is  a 
very  sweet  ruin,  standing  so  enclosed  in  wood,  which  the 
towers  overtop,  that  you  cannot  know  that  it  is  not  in  a 
state  of  natural  desolation  till  you  are  close  to  it.  The 
opposite  bank  of  the  Tweed  is  steep  and  woody,  but  unfor- 
tunately many  of  the  trees  are  firs.  The  old  woman  fol- 
lowed us  after  the  fashion  of  other  guides,  but  being  slower 
of  foot  than  a  younger  person,  it  was  not  difficult  to  slip 
away  from  the  scent  of  her  poor  smoke-dried  body.  She 
was  sedulous  in  pointing  out  the  curiosities,  which,  I  doubt 
not,  she  had  a  firm  belief  were  not  to  be  surpassed  in 
England  or  Scotland. 

Having  promised  us  a  sight  of  the  largest  and  oldest 
yew-tree  ever  seen,  she  conducted  us  to  it ;  it  was  a  goodly 


260  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

tree,  but  a  mere  dwarf  compared  with  several  of  our  own 
country — not  to  speak  of  the  giant  of  Lorton.  We  re- 
turned to  the  cottage,  and  waited  some  time  in  hopes  that 
the  rain  would  abate,  but  it  grew  worse  and  worse,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  give  up  our  journey  to  Kelso,  taking 
the  direct  road  to  Jedburgh. 

We  had  to  ford  the  Tweed,  a  wide  river  at  the  crossing- 
place.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  drive  the  horse 
through,  for  he  had  not  forgotten  the  fright  at  Connel  Ferry, 
so  we  hired  a  man  to  lead  us.  After  crossing  the  water, 
the  road  goes  up  the  bank,  and  we  had  a  beautiful  view 
of  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey,  peering  above  the  trees  of  the 
woody  peninsula,  which,  in  shape,  resembles  that  formed 
by  the  Tees  at  Lickburn,  but  is  considerably  smaller. 
Lord  Buchan's  house  is  a  very  neat,  modest  building,  and 
almost  hidden  by  trees.  It  soon  began  to  rain  heavily. 
Crossing  the  Teviot  by  a  stone  bridge — the  vale  in  that 
part  very  wide — there  was  a  great  deal  of  ripe  corn,  but  a 
want  of  trees,  and  no  appearance  of  richness.  Arrived  at 
Jedburgh  half  an  hour  before  the  Judges  were  expected 
out  of  Court  to  dinner. 

We  gave  in  our  passport — the  name  of  Mr.  Scott,  the 
Sheriff — and  were  very  civilly  treated,  but  there  was  no 
vacant  room  in  the  house  except  the  Judge's  sitting-room, 
and  we  wanted  to  have  a  fire,  being  exceedingly  wet  and 
cold.  I  was  conducted  into  that  room,  on  condition  that  I 
would  give  it  up  the  moment  the  Judge  came  from  Court. 
After  I  had  put  off  my  wet  clothes  I  went  up  into  a  bed- 
room, and  sate  shivering  there,  till  the  people  of  the  inn 
had  procured  lodgings  for  us  in  a  private  house. 

We  were  received  with  hearty  welcome  by  a  good  woman, 
who,  though  above  seventy  years  old,  moved  about  as 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  261 

briskly  as  if  she  was  only  seventeen.  Those  parts  of  the 
house  which  we  were  to  occupy  were  neat  and  clean ;  she 
showed  me  every  corner,  and,  before  I  had  been  ten  minutes 
in  the  house,  opened  her  very  drawers  that  I  might  see 
what  a  stock  of  linen  she  had ;  then  asked  me  how  long 
we  should  stay,  and  said  she  wished  we  were  come  for  three 
months.  She  was  a  most  remarkable  person  ;  the  alacrity 
with  which  she  ran  up-stairs  when  we  rung  the  bell,  and 
guessed  at,  and  strove  to  prevent,  our  wants  was  surprising ; 
she  had  a  quick  eye,  and  keen  strong  features,  and  a  joy- 
ousness  in  her  motions,  like  what  used  to  be  in  old  Molly 
when  she  was  particularly  elated.  I  found  afterwards  that 
she  had  been  subject  to  fits  of  dejection  and  ill-health  :  we 
then  conjectured  that  her  overflowing  gaiety  and  strength 
might  in  part  be  attributed  to  the  same  cause  as  her  former 
dejection.  Her  husband  was  deaf  and  infirm,  and  sate  in 
a  chair  with  scarcely  the  power  to  move  a  limb — an  affect- 
ing contrast !  The  old  woman  said  they  had  been  a  very 
hard-working  pair ;  they  had  wrought  like  slaves  at  their 
trade — her  husband  had  been  a  currier ;  and  she  told  me 
how  they  had  portioned  off  their  daughters  with  money, 
and  each  a  feather-bed,  and  that  in  their  old  age  they  had 
laid  out  the  little  they  could  spare  in  building  and  furnish- 
ing that  house,  and  she  added  with  pride  that  she  had 
lived  in  her  youth  in  the  family  of  Lady  Egerton,  who 
was  no  high  lady,  and  now  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to 
her  house  whenever  she  was  at  Jedburgh,  and  a  hundred 
other  things ;  for  when  she  once  began  with  Lady  Egerton, 
she  did  not  know  how  to  stop,  nor  did  I  wish  it,  for  she 
was  very  entertaining.  Mr.  Scott  sate  with  us  an  hour  or 
two,  and  repeated  a  part  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
When  he  was  gone  our  hostess  came  to  see  if  we  wanted 


262  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

anything,  and  to  wish  us  good-night.  On  all  occasions 
her  manners  were  governed  by  the  same  spirit :  there  was 
no  withdrawing  one's  attention  from  her.  We  were  so 
much  interested  that  William,  long  afterwards,  thought  it 
worth  while  to  express  in  verse  the  sensations  which  she 
had  excited,  and  which  then  remained  as  vividly  in  hi.s 
mind  as  at  the  moment  when  we  lost  sight  of  Jedburgh  : — 

Age  !  twine  thy  brows  with  fresh  spring  flowers, 

And  call  a  train  of  laughing  Hours ; 

And  bid  them  dance,  and  bid  them  sing, 

And  Thou,  too,  mingle  in  the  Ring ! 

Take  to  thy  heart  a  new  delight ! 

If  not,  make  merry  in  despite 

That  one  should  breathe  who  scorns  thy  power. 

— But  dance !  for  under  Jedborough  Tower 

A  Matron  dwells  who,  tho'  she  bears 

Our  mortal  complement  of  years, 

Lives  in  the  light  of  youthful  glee, 

And  she  will  dance  and  sing  with  thee. 

Nay !  start  not  at  that  Figure — there  ! 
Him  who  is  rooted  to  his  Chair  ! 
Look  at  him,  look  again ;  for  He 
Hath  long  been  of  thy  Family. 
With  legs  that  move  not,  if  they  can, 
And  useless  arms,  a  Trunk  of  Man, 
He  sits,  and  with  a  vacant  eye ; 
A  Sight  to  make  a  Stranger  sigh ! 
Deaf,  drooping,  such  is  now  his  doom ; 
His  world  is  in  that  single  room — 
Is  this  a  place  for  mirthful  cheer  ? 
Can  merry-making  enter  here  1 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  263 

The  joyous  Woman  is  the  Mate 
Of  him  in  that  forlorn  estate ; 
He  breathes  a  subterraneous  damp  ; 
But  bright  as  Vesper  shines  her  lamp, 
He  is  as  mute  as  Jedborough  Tower, 
She  jocund  as  it  was  of  yore 
With  all  its  bravery  on,  in  times 
When  all  alive  with  merry  chimes 
Upon  a  sun-bright  morn  of  May 
It  roused  the  Vale  to  holiday. 

I  praise  thee,  Matron !  and  thy  due 
Is  praise,  heroic  praise  and  true. 
With  admiration  I  behold 
Thy  gladness  unsubdued  and  bold  : 
Thy  looks,  thy  gestures,  all  present 
The  picture  of  a  life  well  spent ; 
This  do  I  see,  and  something  more, 
A  strength  unthought  of  heretofore. 
Delighted  am  I  for  thy  sake, 
And  yet  a  higher  joy  partake  : 
Our  human  nature  throws  away 
Its  second  twilight,  and  looks  gay, 
A  Land  of  promise  and  of  pride 
Unfolding,  wide  as  life  is  wide. 

Ah !  see  her  helpless  Charge !  enclosed 
Within  himself  as  seems,  composed  ; 
To  fear  of  loss  and  hope  of  gain, 
The  strife  of  happiness  and  pain — 
Utterly  dead !  yet  in  the  guise 
Of  little  Infants  when  their  eyes 


264  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

Begin  to  follow  to  and  fro 
The  persons  that  before  them  go, 
He  tracks  her  motions,  quick  or  slow. 
Her  buoyant  spirits  can  prevail 
Where  common  cheerfulness  would  fail. 
She  strikes  upon  him  with  the  heat 
Of  July  suns ;  he  feels  it  sweet ; 
An  animal  delight,  though  dim  ! 
'  Tis  all  that  now  remains  for  him ! 

I  look'd,  I  scann'd  her  o'er  and  o'er, 

And,  looking,  wondered  more  and  more  : 

When  suddenly  I  seem'd  to  espy 

A  trouble  in  her  strong  black  eye, 

A  remnant  of  uneasy  light, 

A  flash  of  something  over-bright ! 

Not  long  this  mystery  did  detain 

My  thoughts.     She  told  in  pensive  strain 

That  she  had  borne  a  heavy  yoke, 

Been  stricken  by  a  twofold  stroke ; 

111  health  of  body,  and  had  pined 

Beneath  worse  ailments  of  the  mind. 

So  be  it ! — but  let  praise  ascend 
To  Him  who  is  our  Lord  and  Friend ! 
Who  from  disease  and  suffering 
As  bad  almost  as  Life  can  bring, 
Hath  call'd  for  thee  a  second  Spring ; 
Repaid  thee  for  that  sore  distress 
By  no  untimely  joyousness ; 
Which  makes  of  thine  a  blissful  state ; 
And  cheers  thy  melancholy  Mate  ! 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  265 

Wednesday,  September  21s/. — The  house  where  we  lodged 
was  airy,  and  even  cheerful,  though  one  of  a  line  of  houses 
bordering  on  the  churchyard,  which  is  the  highest  part  of 
the  town,  overlooking  a  great  portion  of  it  to  the  opposite 
hills.  The  kirk  is,  as  at  Melrose,  within  the  walls  of  a 
conventual  church ;  but  the  ruin  is  much  less  beautiful, 
and  the  church  a  very  neat  one.  The  churchyard  was  full 
of  graves,  and  exceedingly  slovenly  and  dirty ;  one  most 
indecent  practice  I  observed  :  several  women  brought  their 
linen  to  the  flat  table-tombstones,  and,  having  spread  it 
upon  them,  began  to  batter  as  hard  as  they  could  with  a 
wooden  roller,  a  substitute  for  a  mangle. 

After  Mr.  Scott's  business  in  the  Courts  was  over,  he 
walked  with  us  up  the  Jed — '  sylvan  Jed '  it  has  been  pro- 
perly called  by  Thomson — for  the  banks  are  yet  very  woody, 
though  wood  in  large  quantities  has  been  felled  within  a 
few  years.  There  are  some  fine  red  scars  near  the  river,  in 
one  or  two  of  which  we  saw  the  entrances  to  caves,  said  to 
have  been  used  as  places  of  refuge  in  times  of  insecurity. 

Walked  up  to  Ferniehurst,  an  old  hall,  in  a  secluded 
situation,  now  inhabited  by  farmers;  the  neighbouring 
ground  had  the  wildness  of  a  forest,  being  irregularly 
scattered  over  with  fine  old  trees.  The  wind  was  tossing 
their  branches,  and  sunshine  dancing  among  the  leaves, 
and  I  happened  to  exclaim,  '  What  a  life  there  is  in  trees !' 
on  which  Mr.  Scott  observed  that  the  words  reminded  him 
of  a  young  lady  who  had  been  born  and  educated  on  an 
island  of  the  Orcades,  and  came  to  spend  a  summer  at  Kelso 
and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Edinburgh.  She  used  to  say 
that  in  the  new  world  into  which  she  was  come  nothing 
had  disappointed  her  so  much  as  trees  and  woods;  she 
complained  that  they  were  lifeless,  silent,  and,  compared 


266  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

with  the  grandeur  of  the  ever-changing  ocean,  even  insipid. 
At  first  I  was  surprised,  but  the  next  moment  I  felt  that 
the  impression  was  natural.  Mr.  Scott  said  that  she  was 
a  very  sensible  young  woman,  and  had  read  much.  She 
talked  with  endless  rapture  and  feeling  of  the  power  and 
greatness  of  the  ocean ;  and  with  the  same  passionate 
attachment  returned  to  her  native  island  without  any  pro- 
bability of  quitting  it  again. 

The  valley  of  the  Jed  is  very  solitary  immediately  under 
Ferniehurst ;  we  walked  down  the  river,  wading  almost  up 
to  the  knees  in  fern,  which  in  many  parts  overspread  the 
forest-ground.  It  made  me  think  of  our  walks  at  Allfox 
den,  and  of  our  own  park — though  at  Ferniehurst  is  no  park 
at  present — and  the  slim  fawns  that  we  used  to  startle  from 
their  couching-places  among  the  fern  at  the  top  of  the 
hill.  We  were  accompanied  on  our  walk  by  a  young  man 
from  the  Braes  of  Yarrow,  an  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Scott's,* 
who,  having  been  much  delighted  with  some  of  William's 
poems  which  he  had  chanced  to  see  in  a  newspaper,  had 
wished  to  be  introduced  to  him  ;  he,  lived  in  the  most  re- 
tired part  of  the  dale  of  Yarrow,  where  he  had  a  farm  : 
he  was  fond  of  reading,  and  well  informed,  but  at  first 
meeting  as  shy  as  any  of  our  Grasmere  lads,  and  not  less 
rustic  in  his  appearance.  He  had  been  in  the  Highlands, 
and  gave  me  such  an  account  of  Loch  Rannoch  as  made 
us  regret  that  we  had  not  persevered  in  our  journey  thither, 
especially  as  he  told  us  that  the  bad  road  ended  at  a  very 
little  distance  from  the  place  where  we  had  turned  back, 
and  that  we  should  have  come  into  another  good  road,  con- 
tinued all  along  the  shore  of  the  lake.  He  also  mentioned 
that  there  was  a  very  fine  view  from  the  steeple  at  Dunkeld. 
*  W.  Laidlaw.  See  Scott's  Life,  vol.  i. 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  2G7 

The  town  of  Jedburgh,  in  returning  along  the  road,  as  it 
is  seen  through  the  gently  winding  narrow  valley,  looks 
exceedingly  beautiful  on  its  low  eminence,  surmounted  by 
the  conventual  tower,  which  is  arched  over,  at  the  summit, 
by  light  stone- work  resembling  a  coronet ;  the  effect  at  a 
distance  is  very  graceful.  The  hills  all  round  are  high, 
and  rise  rapidly  from  the  town,  which  though  it  stands 
considerably  above  the  river,  yet,  from  every  side  except 
that  on  which  we  walked,  appears  to  stand  in  a  bottom. 

We  had  our  dinner  sent  from  the  inn,  and  a  bottle  of 
wine,  that  we  might  not  disgrace  the  Sheriff,  who  supped 
with  us  in  the  evening, — stayed  late,  and  repeated  some  of 
his  poem. 

Thursday,  September  22d. — After  breakfast,  the  minister, 
Dr.  Somerville,  called  upon  us  with  Mr.  Scott,  and  we  went 
to  the  manse,  a  very  pretty  house,  with  pretty  gardens,  and 
in  a  beautiful  situation,  though  close  to  the  town.  Dr. 
Somerville  and  his  family  complained  bitterly  of  the  devas- 
tation that  had  been  made  among  the  woods  within  view 
from  their  windows,  which  looked  up  the  Jed.  He  con- 
ducted us  to  the  church,  which  under  his  directions  has 
been  lately  repaired,  and  is  a  very  neat  place  within.  Dr. 
Somerville  spoke  of  the  dirt  and  other  indecencies  in  the 
churchyard,  and  said  that  he  had  taken  great  pains  to  put 
a  stop  to  them,  but  wholly  in  vain.  The  business  of  the 
assizes  closed  this  day,  and  we  went  into  Court  to  hear 
the  Judge  pronounce  his  charge,  which  was  the  most  curious 
specimen  of  old  woman's  oratory  and  newspaper-paragraph 
loyalty  that  was  ever  heard.  When  all  was  over  they 
returned  to  the  inn  in  procession,  as  they  had  come,  to  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  the  Judge  first,  in  his  robes  of  red, 


268  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

the  Sheriffs  next,  in  large  cocked  hats,  and  inferior  officers 
following,  a  show  not  much  calculated  to  awe  the  beholders. 
After  this  we  went  to  the  inn.  The  landlady  and  her 
sister  inquired  if  we  had  been  comfortable,  and  lamented 
that  they  had  not  had  it  in  their  power  to  pay  us  more 
attention.  I  began  to  talk  with  them,  and  found  out  that 
they  were  from  Cumberland  :  they  knew  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Wordsworth,  who  had  frequently  been  at  Jedburgh,  Mrs. 
Wordsworth's  sister  having  married  a  gentleman  of  that 
neighbourhood.  They  spoke  of  them  with  great  pleasure. 
I  returned  to  our  lodgings  to  take  leave  of  the  old  woman, 
who  told  me  that  I  had  behaved  '  very  discreetly,'  and 
seemed  exceedingly  sorry  that  we  were  leaving  her  so 
soon.  She  had  been  out  to  buy  me  some  pears,  saying 
that  I  must  take  away  some  '  Jedderd  '  pears.  We  learned 
afterwards  that  Jedburgh  is  famous  in  Scotland  for  pears, 
which  were  first  cultivated  there  in  the  gardens  of  the 
monks. 

Mr.  Scott  was  very  glad  to  part  from  the  Judge  and  his 
retinue,  to  travel  with  us  in  our  car  to  Hawick;  his 
servant  drove  his  own  gig.  The  landlady,  very  kindly, 
had  put  up  some  sandwiches  and  cheese-cakes  for  me,  and 
all  the  family  came  out  to  see  us  depart.  Passed  the 
monastery  gardens,  which  are  yet  gardens,  where  there  are 
many  remarkably  large  old  pear-trees.  We  soon  came  into 
the  vale  of  Teviot,  which  is  open  and  cultivated,  and 
scattered  over  with  hamlets,  villages,  and  many  gentlemen's 
seats,  yet,  though  there  is  no  inconsiderable  quantity  of 
wood,  you  can  never,  in  the  wide  and  cultivated  parts  of 
the  Teviot,  get  rid  of  the  impression  of  barrenness,  and  the 
fir  plantations,  which  in  this  part  are  numerous,  are  for 
ever  at  war  with  simplicity.  One  beautiful  spot  I  recol- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  269 

lect  of  a  different  character,  which  Mr.  Scott  took  us  to  see 
a  few  yards  from  the  road.  A  stone  bridge  crossed  the 
water  at  a  deep  and  still  place,  called  Home's  Pool,  from 
a  contemplative  schoolmaster,  who  had  lived  not  far  from 
it,  and  was  accustomed  to  walk  thither,  and  spend  much 
of  his  leisure  near  the  river.  The  valley  was  here  narrow 
and  woody.  Mr.  Scott  pointed  out  to  us  Ruberslaw, 
Minto  Crags,  and  every  other  remarkable  object  in  or  near 
the  vale  of  Teviot,  and  we  scarcely  passed  a  house  for 
which  he  had  not  some  story.  Seeing  us  look  at  one, 
which  stood  high  on  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river,  he  told  us  that  a  gentleman  lived  there  who,  while 
he  was  in  India,  had  been  struck  with  the  fancy  of  making 
his  fortune  by  a  new  speculation,  and  so  set  about  collect- 
ing the  gods  of  the  country,  with  infinite  pains  and  no  little 
expense,  expecting  that  he  might  sell  them  for  an  enormous 
price.  Accordingly,  on  his  return  they  were  offered  for 
sale,  but  no  purchasers  came.  On  the  failure  of  this 
scheme,  a  room  was  hired  in  London  in  which  to  exhibit 
them  as  a  show ;  but  alas !  nobody  would  come  to  see  ; 
and  this  curious  assemblage  of  monsters  is  now,  probably, 
quietly  lodged  in  the  vale  of  Teviot.  The  latter  part  of 
this  gentleman's  history  is  more  affecting  : — he  had  an  only 
daughter,  whom  he  had  accompanied  into  Spain  two  or 
three  years  ago  for  the  recovery  of  her  health,  and  so  for  a 
time  saved  her  from  a  consumption,  which  now  again 
threatened  her,  and  he  was  about  to  leave  his  pleasant 
residence,  and  attend  her  once  more  on  the  same  errand, 
afraid  of  the  coming  winter. 

We  passed  through  a  village,  whither  Leyden,  Scott's 
intimate  friend,  the  author  of  Scenes  of  Infancy,  was  used 
to  walk  over  several  miles  of  moorland  country  every  day 


270  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

to  school,  a  poor  barefooted  boy.  He  is  now  in  India,  ap- 
plying himself  to  the  study  of  Oriental  literature,  and,  I 
doubt  not,  it  is  his  dearest  thought  that  he  may  come  and 
end  his  days  upon  the  banks  of  Teviot,  or  some  other  of 
the  Lowland  streams — for  he  is,  like  Mr.  Scott,  passionately 
attached  to  the  district  of  the  Borders. 

Arrived  at  Hawick  to  dinner ;  the  inn  is  a  large  old  house 
with  walls  above  a  yard  thick,  formerly  a  gentleman's  house. 
Did  not  go  out  this  evening. 

Friday,  September  23d. — Before  breakfast,  walked  with 
Mr.  Scott  along  a  high  road  for  about  two  miles,  up  a  bare 
hill.  Hawick  is  a  small  town.  From  the  top  of  the  hill 
we  had  an  extensive  view  over  the  moors  of  Liddisdale, 
and  saw  the  Cheviot  Hills.  We  wished  we  could  have 
gone  with  Mr.  Scott  into  some  of  the  remote  dales  of  this 
country,  where  in  almost  every  house  he  can  find  a  home 
and  a  hearty  welcome.  But  after  breakfast  we  were  obliged 
to  part  with  him,  which  we  did  with  great  regret :  he 
would  gladly  have  gone  with  us  to  Langholm,  eighteen 
miles  further.  Our  way  was  through  the  vale  of  Teviot, 
near  the  banks  of  the  river. 

Passed  Branxholm  Hall,  one  of  the  mansions  belonging 
to  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  which  we  looked  at  with  par- 
ticular interest  for  the  sake  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
Only  a  very  small  part  of  the  original  building  remains  : 
it  is  a  large  strong  house,  old,  but  not  ancient  in  its  ap- 
pearance— stands  very  near  the  river-side;  the  banks 
covered  with  plantations. 

A  little  further  on,  met  the  Edinburgh  coach  with 
several  passengers,  the  only  stage-coach  that  had  passed  us 
in  Scotland.  Coleridge  had  come  home  by  that  convey- 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  271 

ance  only  a  few  days  before.  The  quantity  of  arable  land 
gradually  diminishes,  and  the  plantations  become  fewer, 
till  at  last  the  river  flows  open  to  the  sun,  mostly  through 
unfenced  and  untilled  grounds,  a  soft  pastoral  district,  both 
the  hills  and  the  valley  being  scattered  Qver  with  sheep  : 
here  and  there  was  a  single  farm-house,  or  cluster  of  houses, 
and  near  them  a  portion  of  land  covered  with  ripe  corn. 

Near  the  head  of  the  vale  of  Teviot,  where  that  stream 
is  but  a  small  rivulet,  we  descended  towards  another  valley, 
by  another  small  rivulet.  Hereabouts  Mr.  Scott  had 
directed  us  to  look  about  for  some  old  stumps  of  trees,  said 
to  be  the  place  where  Johnny  Armstrong  was  hanged ;  but 
we  could  not  find  them  out.  The  valley  into  which  we 
were  descending,  though,  for  aught  I  know,  it  is  unnamed 
in  song,  was  to  us  more  interesting  than  the  Teviot  itself. 
Not  a  spot  of  tilled  ground  was  there  to  break  in  upon  its 
pastoral  simplicity  ;  the  same  soft  yellow  green  spread  from 
the  bed  of  the  streamlet  to  the  hill-tops  on  each  side,  and 
sheep  were  feeding  everywhere.  It  was  more  close  and 
simple  than  the  upper  end  of  the  vale  of  Teviot,  the  valley 
being  much  narrower,  and  the  hills  equally  high  and  not 
broken  into  parts,  but  on  each  side  a  long  range.  The 
grass,  as  we  had  first  seen  near  Crawfordjohn,  had  been 
mown  in  the  different  places  of  the  open  ground,  where  it 
might  chance  to  be  best ;  but  there  was  no  part  of  the 
surface  that  looked  perfectly  barren,  as  in  those  tracts. 

We  saw  a  single  stone  house  a  long  way  before  us, 
which  we  conjectured  to  be,  as  it  proved,  Moss  Paul,  the 
inn  where  we  were  to  bait.  The  scene,  with  this  single 
dwelling,  was  melancholy  and  wild,  but  not  dreary,  though 
there  was  no  tree  nor  shrub  ;  the  small  streamlet  glittered, 
the  hills  were  populous  with  sheep  ;  but  the  gentle  bend- 


272  RECOLLECTIONS  OF 

ing  of  the  valley,  and  the  correspondent  softness  in  the 
forms  of  the  hills,  were  of  themselves  enough  to  delight  the 
eye.  At  Moss  Paul  we  fed  our  horse  ; — several  travellers 
were  drinking  whisky.  We  neither  ate  nor  drank,  for 
we  had,  with  our.  usual  foresight  and  frugality  in  travelling, 
saved  the  cheese-cakes  and  sandwiches  which  had  been 
given  us  by  our  countrywoman  at  Jedburgh  the  day  before. 
After  Moss  Paul,  we  ascended  considerably,  then  went  down 
other  reaches  of  the  valley,  much  less  interesting,  stony  and 
barren.  The  country  afterwards  not  peculiar,  I  should 
think,  for  I  scarcely  remember  it. 

Arrived  at  Langholm  at  about  five  o'clock.  The  town, 
as  we  approached,  from  a  hill,  looked  very  pretty,  the 
houses  being  roofed  with  blue  slates,  and  standing  close  to 
the  river  Esk,  here  a  large  river,  that  scattered  its  waters 
wide  over  a  stony  channel.  The  inn  neat  and  comfortable 
— exceedingly  clean  :  I  could  hardly  believe  we  were  still 
in  Scotland. 

After  tea  walked  out ;  crossed  a  bridge,  and  saw,  at  a 
little  distance  up  the  valley,  Langholm  House,  a  villa  of  the 
Duke  of  Buccleuch :  it  stands  upon  a  level  between  the 
river  and  a  steep  hill,  which  is  planted  with  wood.  Walked 
a  considerable  way  up  the  river,  but  could  not  go  close  to 
it  on  account  of  the  Duke's  plantations,  which  are  locked 
up.  When  they  ended,  the  vale  became  less  cultivated ; 
the  view  through  the  vale  towards  the  hills  very  pleasing, 
though  bare  and  cold. 

Saturday,  September  24th. — Eose  very  early  and  travelled 
about  nine  miles  to  Longtown,  before  breakfast,  along  the 
banks  of  the  Esk.  About  half  a  mile  from  Langholm 
crossed  a  bridge.  At  this  part  of  the  vale,  which  is  narrow, 


A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND.  273 

the  steeps  are  covered  with  old  oaks  and  every  variety  of 
trees.  Our  road  for  some  time  through  the  wood,  then 
came  to  a  more  open  country,  exceedingly  rich  and  popu- 
lous ;  the  banks  of  the  river  frequently  rocky,  and  hung 
with  wood ;  many  gentlemen's  houses.  There  was  the 
same  rich  variety  while  the  river  continued  to  flow  through 
Scottish  grounds ;  but  not  long  after  we  had  passed  through 
the  last  turnpike  gate  in  Scotland  and  the  first  in  England 
— but  a  few  yards  asunder — the  vale  widens,  and  its 
aspect  was  cold,  and  even  dreary,  though  Sir  James 
Graham's  plantations  are  very  extensive.  His  house,  a 
large  building,  stands  in  this  open  part  of  the  vale.  Long- 
town  was  before  us,  and  ere  long  we  saw  the  well-remem- 
bered guide-post,  where  the  circuit  of  our  six  weeks'  travels 
had  begun,  and  now  was  ended. 

We  did  not  look  along  the  white  line  of  the  road  to 
Solway  Moss  without  some  melancholy  emotion,  though  we 
had  the  fair  prospect  of  the  Cumberland  mountains  full  in 
view,  with  the  certainty,  barring  accidents,  of  reaching  our 
own  dear  home  the  next  day.  Breakfasted  at  the 
Graham's  Arms.  The  weather  had  been  very  fine  from 
the  time  of  our  arrival  at  Jedburgh,  and  this  was  a  very 
pleasant  day.  The  sun  '  shone  fair  on  Carlisle  walls ' 
when  we  first  saw  them  from  the  top  of  the  opposite  hill. 
Stopped  to  look  at  the  place  on  the  sand  near  the  bridge 
where  Hatfield  had  been  executed.  Put  up  at  the  same  inn 
as  before,  and  were  recognised  by  the  woman  who  had 
waited  on  us.  Everybody  spoke  of  Hatfield  as  an  injured 
man.  After  dinner  went  to  a  village  six  miles  further, 
where  we  slept. 

Sunday,  September   25th,  1803. — A  beautiful  autumnal 
s 


274      RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  TOUR  IN  SCOTLAND. 

day.  Breakfasted  at  a  public-house  by  the  road-side; 
dined  at  Threlkeld ;  arrived  at  home  between  eight  and 
nine  o'clock,  where  we  found  Mary  in  perfect  health, 
Joanna  Hutchinson  with  her,  and  little  John  asleep  in  the 
clothes-basket  by  the  fire. 


SONNET 

COMPOSED  BETWEEN  DALSTON  AND  GBASMERE, 
SEPTEMBER  25-ra,  1803. 

FLY,  some  kind  spirit,  fly  to  Grasmere  Vale ! 

Say  that  we  come,  and  come  by  this  day's  light 

Glad  tidings ! — spread  them  over  field  and  height, 

But,  chiefly,  let  one  Cottage  hear  the  tale ! 

There  let  a  mystery  of  joy  prevail, 

The  kitten  frolic  with  unruly  might, 

And  Eover  whine  as  at  a  second  sight 

Of  near-approaching  good,  that  will  not  fail : 

And  from  that  Infant's  face  let  joy  appear ; 

Yea,  let  our  Mary's  one  companion  child, 

That  hath  her  six  weeks'  solitude  beguiled 

With  intimations  manifold  and  dear, 

While  we  have  wander'd  over  wood  and  wild — 

Smile  on  its  Mother  now  with  bolder  cheer ! 


APPENDIX  AND  NOTES. 


APPENDIX   A. 

'  And  think  and  fear.' — PAQE  11. 

THE  entire  Poem  as  given  in  the  works  of  the  Poet  stands  thus  : — 
TO  THE  SONS  OF  BURNS, 

AFTER   VISITING  THE  GRAVE   OF  THEIR  FATHEB. 

'  The  Poet's  grave  is  in  a  corner  of  the  churchyard.     We  looked  at  it  with 
melancholy  and  painful  reflections,  repeating  to  each  other  his  own  verses— 

"  Is  there  a  man  whose  judgment  clear,"  etc.* 

Extract  from  the  Journal  of  my  Fellow-Traveller. 

'MiD  crowded  obelisks  and  urns 

I  sought  the  untimely  grave  of  Burns  ; 

Sons  of  the  Bard,  my  heart  still  mourns 

With  sorrow  true ; 
And  more  would  grieve,  but  that  it  turns 

Trembling  to  you  I 

Through  twilight  shades  of  good  and  ill 

Ye  now  are  panting  up  life's  hill, 

And  more  than  common  strength  and  skill 

Must  ye  display ; 
If  ye  would  give  the  better  will 

Its  lawful  sway. 

Hath  Nature  strung  your  nerves  to  bear 
Intemperance  with  less  harm,  beware  ! 
But  if  the  Poet's  wit  ye  share, 

Like  him  can  speed 
The  social  hour — of  tenfold  care 

There  will  be  need  ; 

For  honest  men  delight  will  take 
To  spare  your  failings  for  his  sake, 


278  APPENDIX. 

Will  flatter  you, — and  fool  and  rake 

Your  steps  pursue  ; 
And  of  your  Father's  name  will  make 

A  snare  for  you. 

Far  from  their  noisy  haunts  retire, 
And  add  your  voices  to  the  quire 
That  sanctify  the  cottage  fire 

With  service  meet ; 
There  seek  the  genius  of  your  Sire, 

His  spirit  greet  ; 

Or  where,  'mid  'lonely  heights  and  hows,' 
He  paid  to  Nature  tuneful  vows ; 
Or  wiped  his  honourable  brows 

Bedewed  with  toil, 
While  reapers  strove,  or  busy  ploughs 

Upturned  the  soil ; 

His  judgment  with  benignant  ray 
Shall  guide,  his  fancy  cheer,  your  way ; 
But  ne'er  to  a  seductive  lay 

Let  faith  be  given  ; 
Nor  deem  that  '  light  which  leads  astray, 

Is  light  from  Heaven.' 

Let  no  mean  hope  your  souls  enslave  ; 
Be  independent,  generous,  brave  ; 
Your  Father  such  example  gave, 

And  such  revere ; 
But  be  admonished  by  his  grave, 

And  think,  and  fear  ! 

Two  other  Poems  on  the  same  subject  may  fitly  be  inserted  in  this  place, 
though,  as  appears  from  the  Poet's  notes,  one  of  them  at  least  belongs  to 
a  later  date. 

AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  BURNS.    1803. 

SEVEN   TEARS   AFTER   HIS   DEATH. 

I  SHIVER,  Spirit  fierce  and  bold, 
At  thoughts  of  what  I  now  behold  : 


APPENDIX.  279 

As  vapours  breathed  from  dungeons  cold 

Strike  pleasure  dead, 
So  sadness  comes  from  out  the  mould 

Where  Burns  is  laid. 

And  have  I  then  thy  bones  so  near, 
And  thou  forbidden  to  appear? 
As  if  it  were  thyself  that 's  here, 

I  shrink  with  pain  ; 
And  both  my  wishes  and  my  fear 

Alike  are  vain. 

Off  weight — nor  press  on  weight ! — away 
Dark  thoughts  ! — they  came,  but  not  to  stay ; 
With  chastened  feelings  would  I  pay 

The  tribute  due 
To  him,  and  aught  that  hides  his  clay 

From  mortal  view. 

Fresh  as  the  flower,  whose  modest  worth 
He  sang,  his  genius  '  glinted  '  forth, 
Hose  like  a  star  that  touching  earth, 

For  so  it  seems, 
Doth  glorify  its  humble  birth 

With  matchless  beams. 

The  piercing  eye,  the  thoughtful  brow, 

The  struggling  heart,  where  be  they  now  ? — 

Full  soon  the  Aspirant  of  the  plough, 

The  prompt,  the  brave, 
Slept,  with  the  obscurest,  in  the  low 

And  silent  grave. 

I  mourned  with  thousands,  but  as  one 
More  deeply  grieved,  for  He  was  gone 
Whose  light  I  hailed  when  first  it  shone, 

And  showed  my  youth 
How  Verse  may  build  a  princely  throne 

On  humble  truth. 

Alas  !  where'er  the  current  tends, 
Regret  pursues  and  with  it  blends, — 


280  APPENDIX. 

Huge  Criffel's  hoary  top  ascends 

By  Skiddaw  seen, — 
Neighbours  we  were,  and  loving  friends 

We  might  have  been  ; 

True  friends  though  diversely  inclined  ; 
But  heart  with  heart  and  mind  with  mind, 
Where  the  main  fibres  are  entwined, 

Through  Nature's  skill, 
May  even  by  contraries  be  joined 

More  closely  still. 

The  tear  will  start,  and  let  it  flow  ; 
Thou  '  poor  Inhabitant  below,' 
At  this  dread  moment — even  so — 

Might  we  together 
Have  sate  and  talked  where  gowans  blow, 

Or  on  wild  heather. 

What  treasures  would  have  then  been  placed 
Within  my  reach  ;  of  knowledge  graced 
By  fancy  what  a  rich  repast ! 

But  why  go  on  ? — 
Oh  !  spare  to  sweep,  thou  mournful  blast, 

His  grave  grass-grown. 

There,  too,  a  Son,  his  joy  and  pride, 
(Not  three  weeks  past  the  Stripling  died,) 
Lies  gathered  to  his  Father's  side, 

Soul-moving  sight ! 
Yet  one  to  which  is  not  denied 

Some  sad  delight. 

For  he  is  safe,  a  quiet  bed 

Hath  early  found  among  the  dead, 

Harboured  where  none  can  be  misled, 

Wronged,  or  distrest ; 
And  surely  here  it  may  be  said 

That  such  are  blest. 

And  oh  for  Thee,  by  pitying  grace 
Checked  oft-times  in  a  devious  race, 


APPENDIX.  281 

May  He  who  halloweth  the  place 

Where  Man  is  laid, 
Receive  thy  Spirit  in  the  embrace      » 

For  which  it  prayed  ! 

Sighing  T  turned  away  ;  but  ere 
Night  fell  I  heard,  or  seemed  to  hear, 
Music  that  sorrow  comes  not  near, 

A  ritual  hymn, 
Chanted  in  love  that  casts  out  fear 

By  Seraphim. 

From  the  notes  appended  to  the  latest  editions  of  Wordsworth's  works, 
it  appears  that  the  preceding  poem,  '  though  fdt  at  the  time,  was  not 
composed  till  many  years  afterwards.' 

THOUGHTS 

SUGGESTED  THE  DAY  FOLLOWING,   ON  THE  BANKS  OF  NITH, 
NEAB  THE   POET'S   RESIDENCE. 

Too  frail  to  keep  the  lofty  vow 

That  must  have  followed  when  his  brow 

Was  wreathed — '  The  Vision  '  tells  us  how — 

With  holly  spray, 
He  faultered,  drifted  to  and  fro, 

And  passed  away. 

Well  might  such  thoughts,  dear  Sister,  throng 
Our  minds  when,  lingering  all  too  long, 
Over  the  grave  of  Burns  we  hung 

In  social  grief — 
Indulged  as  if  it  were  a  wrong 

To  seek  relief. 

But,  leaving  each  unquiet  theme 
Where  gentlest  judgments  may  misdeem, 
And  prompt  to  welcome  every  gleam 

Of  good  and  fair, 
Let  us  beside  this  limpid  Stream 

Breathe  hopeful  air. 


282  APPENDIX. 

Enough  of  sorrow,  wreck,  and  blight ; 
Think  rather  of  those  moments  bright 
When  to  the  consciousness  of  right 

His  course  was  true, 
When  Wisdom  prospered  in  his  sight, 

And  Virtue  grew. 

Yes,  freely  let  our  hearts  expand, 
Freely  as  in  youth's  season  bland, 
When  side  by  side,  his  Book  in  hand, 

We  wont  to  stray, 
Our  pleasure  varying  at  command 

Of  each  sweet  Lay. 

How  oft  inspired  must  he  have  trod 
These  pathways,  yon  far-stretching  road  ! 
There  lurks  his  home  ;  in  that  Abode, 

With  mirth  elate, 
Or  in  his  nobly -pensive  mood, 

The  Rustic  sate. 

Proud  thoughts  that  Image  overawes, 

Before  it  humbly  let  us  pause, 

And  ask  of  Nature,  from  what  cause, 

And  by  what  rules 
She  trained  her  Burns  to  win  applause 

That  shames  the  Schools. 

Through  busiest  street  and  loneliest  glen 

Are  felt  the  flashes  of  his  pen  ; 

He  rules  'mid  winter  snows,  and  when 

Bees  fill  their  hives  ; 
Deep  in  the  general  heart  of  men 

His  power  survives. 

What  need  of  fields  in  some  far  clime 
Where  Heroes,  Sages,  Bards  sublime, 
And  all  that  fetched  the  flowing  rhyme 

From  genuine  springs, 
Shall  dwell  together  till  old  Time 

Folds  up  his  wings  ? 


APPENDIX.  283 


Sweet  Mercy  !  to  the  gates  of  Heaven 
This  Minstrel  lead,  his  sins  forgiven  ; 
The  rueful  conflict,  the  heart  riven 

With  vain  endeavour, 
And  memory  of  Earth's  bitter  leaven, 

Effaced  for  ever. 

But  why  to  Him  confine  the  prayer, 
When  kindred  thoughts  and  yearnings  bear 
On  the  frail  heart  the  purest  share 

With  aU  that  live  ?— 
The  best  of  what  we  do  and  are, 

Just  God,  forgive ! 


APPENDIX   B. 

'  The  Waterfall,  Cora  Linn.'— PAGE  36. 

THE  following  poem  belongs  to  the  series  entitled  Memorials  of  a  Tour 
in  Scotland,  1814.  It  is  in  a  later,  not  better,  manner  than  those  of  1803. 
Prefixed  to  it  in  the  later  editions  of  the  Poet's  works  are  these  words  :  '  I 
had  seen  this  celebrated  waterfall  twice  before.  But  the  feelings  to  which 
it  had  given  birth  were  not  expressed  till  they  recurred  in  presence  of  the 
object  on  this  occasion.' 

COMPOSED  AT  CORA   LINN, 

IN  SIGHT  OF  WALLACE'S  TOWER. 

'  — How  Wallace  fought  for  Scotland,  left  the  name 
Of  Wallace  to  be  found,  like  a  wild  flower, 
All  over  his  dear  Country  ;  left  the  deeds 
Of  Wallace,  like  a  family  of  ghosts, 
To  people  the  steep  rocks  and  river  banks, 
Her  natural  sanctuaries,  with  a  local  soul 
Of  independence  and  stern  liberty.' — MS. 


LORD  of  the  vale  !  astounding  Flood ; 
The  dullest  leaf  in  this  thick  wood 
Quakes — conscious  of  thy  power  ; 
The  caves  reply  with  hollow  moan ; 
And  vibrates  to  its  central  stone, 
Yon  time-cemented  Tower ! 


284  APPENDIX. 

And  yet  how  fair  the  rural  scene  ! 
For  thou,  0  Clyde,  hast  ever  been 
Beneficent  as  strong ; 
Pleased  in  refreshing  dews  to  steep 
The  little  trembling  flowers  that  peep 
Thy  shelving  rooks  among. 

Hence  all  who  love  their  country,  love 
To  look  on  thee — delight  to  rove 
Where  they  thy  voice  can  hear  ; 
And,  to  the  patriot-warrior's  Shade, 
Lord  of  the  vale !  to  Heroes  laid 
In  dust,  that  voice  is  dear  ! 

Along  thy  banks,  at  dead  of  night, 
Sweeps  visibly  the  Wallace  Wight ; 
Or  stands,  in  warlike  vest, 
Aloft,  beneath  the  moon's  pale  beam, 
A  Champion  worthy  of  the  stream, 
Yon  grey  tower's  living  crest ! 

But  clouds  and  envious  darkness  hide 
A  Form  not  doubtfully  descried  : — 
Their  transient  mission  o'er, 
O  say  to  what  blind  region  flee 
These  Shapes  of  awful  phantasy  ? 
To  what  untrodden  shore  ? 

Less  than  divine  command  they  spurn  ; 
But  this  we  from  the  mountains  learn, 
And  this  the  valleys  show  ; 
That  never  will  they  deign  to  hold 
Communion  where  the  heart  is  cold 
To  human  weal  and  woe. 

The  man  of  abject  soul  in  vain 
Shall  walk  the  Marathonian  plain  ; 
Or  thrid  the  shadowy  gloom, 
That  still  invests  the  guardian  Pass, 
Where  stood,  sublime,  Leonidas 
Devoted  to  the  tomb. 


APPENDIX.  285 

Nor  deem  that  it  can  aught  avail 
For  such  to  glide  with  oar  or  sail 
Beneath  the  piny  wood, 
Where  Tell  once  drew,  by  Uri's  lake, 
His  vengeful  shafts — prepared  to  slake 
Their  thirst  in  Tyrants'  blood. 


APPENDIX  C. 

'  Poured  out  these  verses.'— PAGE  139. 
ADDRESS   TO    KILCHURN    CASTLE. 

CHILD  of  loud -throated  War  !  the  mountain  Stream 

Hoars  in  thy  hearing ;  but  thy  hour  of  rest 

Is  come,  and  thou  art  silent  in  thy  age  ; 

Save  when  the  wind  sweeps  by  and  sounds  are  caught 

Ambiguous,  neither  wholly  thine  nor  theirs. 

Oh  !  there  is  life  that  breathes  not ;  Powers  there  are 

That  touch  each  other  to  the  quick  in  modes 

Which  the  gross  world  no  sense  hath  to  perceive, 

No  soul  to  dream  of.     What  art  Thou,  from  care 

Cast  off — abandoned  by  thy  rugged  Sire, 

Nor  by  soft  Peace  adopted ;  though,  in  place 

And  in  dimension,  such  that  thou  might'st  seem 

But  a  mere  footstool  to  yon  sovereign  Lord, 

Huge  Cruachan,  (a  thing  that  meaner  hills 

Might  crush,  nor  know  that  it  had  suffered  harm  ;) 

Yet  he,  not  loth,  in  favour  of  thy  claims 

To  reverence,  suspends  his  own  ;  submitting 

All  that  the  God  of  Nature  hath  conferred, 

All  that  he  holds  in  common  with  the  stars, 

To  the  memorial  majesty  of  Time 

Impersonated  in  thy  calm  decay  ! 

Take,  then,  thy  seat,  Vicegerent  unreproved  ! 

Now,  while  a  farewell  gleam  of  evening  light 

Is  fondly  lingering  on  thy  shattered  front, 


286  APPENDIX. 

Do  thou,  in  turn,  be  paramount ;  and  rule 

Over  the  pomp  and  beauty  of  a  scene 

Whose  mountains,  torrents,  lake,  and  woods,  unite 

To  pay  thee  homage  ;  and  with  these  are  joined, 

In  willing  admiration  and  respect, 

Two  Hearts,  which  in  thy  presence  might  be  called 

Youthful  as  Spring. — Shade  of  departed  Power, 

Skeleton  of  unfleshed  humanity, 

The  chronicle  were  welcome  that  should  call 

Into  the  compass  of  distinct  regard 

The  toils  and  struggles  of  thy  infant  years ! 

Yon  foaming  flood  seems  motionless  as  ice  ; 

Its  dizzy  turbulence  eludes  the  eye, 

Frozen  by  distance  ;  so,  majestic  Pile, 

To  the  perception  of  this  Age,  appear 

Thy  fierce  beginnings,  softened  and  subdued 

And  quieted  in  character — the  strife, 

The  pride,  the  fury  uncontrollable, 

Lost  on  the  aerial  heights  of  the  Crusades  ! 

'  The  first  three  lines  were  thrown  off  at  the  moment  I  first  caught  sight 
of  the  ruin  from  a  small  eminence  by  the  wayside ;  the  rest  was  added 
many  years  after.' —  Wordsicorth's  Life. 


APPENDIX  D. 

'  Loch  Leven.' — PAGE  165. 
THE  BLIND  HIGHLAND  BOY. 

A  TALE  TOLD  BY  THE  FIRESIDE,   AFTER  RETURNING  TO  THE   VALE 
OF  GRASMERE. 

'  The  story  was  told  me  by  George  Mackreth,  for  many  years  parish-clerk  oi 
Grasmere.  He  had  been  an  eye-witness  of  the  occurrence.  The  vessel  in  reality- 
was  a  washing-tub,  which  the  little  fellow  had  met  with  on  the  shore  of  the  lofh.' 

Now  we  are  tired  of  boisterous  joy, 
.     Have  romped  enough,  my  little  Boy  ! 
Jane  hangs  her  head  upon  my  breast, 
And  you  shall  bring  your  stool  and  rest 
This  corner  is  your  own. 


APPENDIX.  287 

There  !  take  your  seat,  and  let  me  see 
That  you  can  listen  quietly  : 
And,  as  I  promised,  I  will  tell 
That  strange  adventure  which  befel 
A  poor  blind  Highland  Boy. 

A  Highland  Boy  ! — why  call  him  so  ? 
Because,  my  Darlings,  ye  must  know 
That,  under  hills  which  rise  like  towers, 
Far  higher  hills  than  these  of  ours  ! 
He  from  his  birth  had  lived. 

He  ne'er  had  seen  one  earthly  sight, 
The  sun,  the  day  ;  the  stars,  the  night ; 
Or  tree,  or  butterfly,  or  flower, 
Or  fish  in  stream,  or  bird  in  bower, 
Or  woman,  man,  or  child. 

And  yet  he  neither  drooped  nor  pined, 
Nor  had  a  melancholy  mind  ; 
For  God  took  pity  on  the  Boy, 
And  was  his  friend  ;  and  gave  him  joy 
Of  which  we  nothing  know. 

His  Mother,  too,  no  doubt,  above 
Her  other  children  him  did  love  : 
For,  was  she  here,  or  was  she  there, 
She  thought  of  him  with  constant  care, 
And  more  than  mother's  love. 

And  proud  she  was  of  heart,  when  clad 
In  crimson  stockings,  tartan  plaid, 
And  bonnet  with  a  feather  gay, 
To  Kirk  he  on  the  sabbath  day 

Went  hand  in  hand  with  her. 

A  dog  too,  had  he  ;  not  for  need, 
But  one  to  play  with  and  to  feed  ; 
Which  would  have  led  him,  if  bereft 
Of  company  or  friends,  and  left 
Without  a  better  guide. 


288  APPENDIX. 


And  then  the  bagpipes  he  could  blow — 
And  thus  from  house  to  house  would  go  ; 
And  all  were  pleased  to  hear  and  see, 
For  none  made  sweeter  melody 

Than  did  the  poor  blind  Boy. 

Yet  he  had  many  a  restless  dream  ; 
Both  when  he  heard  the  eagles  scream, 
And  when  he  heard  the  torrents  roar, 
And  heard  the  water  beat  the  shore 

Near  which  their  cottage  stood. 

Beside  a  lake  their  cottage  stood, 
Not  small  like  ours,  a  peaceful  flood  ; 
But  one  of  mighty  size,  and  strange  ; 
That,  rough  or  smooth,  is  full  of  change, 
And  stirring  in  its  bed. 

For  to  this  lake,  by  night  and  day, 
The  great  Sea- water  finds  its  way 
Through  long,  long  windings  of  the  hills 
And  drinks  up  all  the  pretty  rills 
And  rivers  large  and  strong : 

Then  hurries  back  the  road  it  came — 
Returns,  on  errand  still  the  same  ; 
This  did  it  when  the  earth  was  new  ; 
And  this  for  evermore  will  do, 

As  long  as  earth  shall  last. 

And,  with  the  coming  of  the  tide, 
Come  boats  and  ships  that  safely  ride 
Between  the  woods  and  lofty  rocks  ; 
And  to  the  shepherds  with  their  flocks 
Bring  tales  of  distant  lands. 

And  of  those  tales,  whate'er  they  were, 
The  blind  Boy  always  had  his  share  ; 
Whether  of  mighty  towns,  or  vales 
With  warmer  suns  and  softer  gales, 
Or  wonders  of  the  Deep. 


APPENDIX.  289 

Yet  more  it  pleased  him,  more  it  stirred, 
When  from  the  water-side  he  heard 
The  shouting,  and  the  jolly  cheers  ; 
The  bustle  of  the  mariners 

In  stillness  or  in  storm. 

But  what  do  his  desires  avail  ? 
For  He  must  never  handle  sail  ; 
Nor  mount  the  mast,  nor  row,  nor  float 
In  sailor's  ship,  or  fisher's  boat,     . 
Upon  the  rocking  waves. 

His  Mother  often  thought,  and  said, 
What  sin  would  be  upon  her  head 
If  she  should  suffer  this  :  '  My  Son, 
Whate'er  you  do,  leave  this  undone  ; 
The  danger  is  so  great.' 

Thus  lived  he  by  Loch-Leven's  side 
Still  sounding  with  the  sounding  tide, 
And  heard  the  billows  leap  and  dance, 
Without  a  shadow  of  mischance, 
Till  he  was  ten  years  old. 

When  one  day  (and  now  mark  me  well, 
Ye  soon  shall  know  how  this  befel) 
He  in  a  vessel  of  his  own, 
On  the  swift  flood  is  hurrying  down, 
Down  to  the  mighty  Sea. 

In  such  a  vessel  never  more 
May  human  creature  leave  the  shore  ! 
If  this  or  that  way  he  should  stir, 
Woe  to  the  poor  blind  Mariner  ! 

For  death  will  be  his  doom. 

But  say  what  bears  him  ? — Ye  have  seen 
The  Indian's  bow,  his  arrows  keen, 
Rare  beasts,  and  birds  with  plumage  bright ; 
Gifts  which,  for  wonder  or  delight, 

Are  brought  in  ships  from  far. 
T 


290  APPENDIX. 


Such  gifts  had  those  seafaring  men 
Spread  round  that  haven  in  the  glen  ; 
Each  hut,  perchance,  might  have  its  own, 
And  to  the  Boy  they  all  were  known — 
He  knew  and  prized  them  all. 

The  rarest  was  a  Turtle-shell 

Which  he,  poor  Child,  had  studied  well ; 

A  shell  of  ample  size,  and  light 

As  the  pearly  car  of  Amphitrite, 

That  sportive  dolphins  drew. 

And,  as  a  Coracle  that  braves 
On  Vaga's  breast  the  fretful  waves, 
This  shell  upon  the  deep  would  swim, 
And  gaily  lift  its  fearless  brim 
Above  the  tossing  surge. 

And  this  the  little  blind  Boy  knew  : 
And  he  a  story  strange  yet  true 
Had  heard,  how  in  a  shell  like  this 
An  English  Boy,  0  thought  of  bliss  ! 

Had  stoutly  launched  from  shore  ; 

Launched  from  the  margin  of  a  bay 
Among  the  Indian  isles,  where  lay 
His  father's  ship,  and  had  sailed  far — 
To  join  that  gallant  ship  of  war, 
In  his  delightful  shell. 

Our  Highland  Boy  oft  visited 
The  house  that  held  this  prize  ;  and,  led 
By  choice  or  chance,  did  thither  come 
One  day  when  no  one  was  at  home, 
And  found  the  door  unbarred. 

While  there  he  sate,  alone  and  blind, 
That  story  flashed  upon  his  mind ; — 
A  bold  thought  roused  him,  and  he  took 
The  shell  from  out  its  secret  nook, 
And  bore  it  on  his  head. 


APPENDIX.  291 

He  launched  his  vessel, — and  in  pride 
Of  spirit,  from  Loch-Leven's  side, 
Stepped  into  it — his  thoughts  all  free 
As  the  light  breezes  that  with  glee 

Sang  through  the  adventurer's  hair. 

A  while  he  stood  upon  his  feet ; 
He  felt  the  motion — took  his  seat ; 
Still  better  pleased  as  more  and  more 
The  tide  retreated  from  the  shore, 

And  sucked,  and  sucked  him  in. 

And  there  he  is  in  face  of  Heaven. 
How  rapidly  the  Child  is  driven  ! 
The  fourth  part  of  a  mile,  I  ween, 
He  thus  had  gone,  ere  he  was  seen 
By  any  human  eye. 

But  when  he  was  first  seen,  oh  me, 
What  shrieking  and  what  misery ! 
For  many  saw  ;  among  the  rest 
His  Mother,  she  who  loved  him  best, 
She  saw  her  poor  blind  Boy. 

But  for  the  child,  the  sightless  Boy, 
It  is  the  triumph  of  his  joy  ! 
The  bravest  traveller  in  balloon, 
Mounting  as  if  to  reach  the  moon, 
Was  never  half  so  blessed. 

And  let  him,  let  him  go  his  way, 
Alone,  and  innocent,  and  gay  ! 
For,  if  good  Angels  love  to  wait 
On  the  forlorn  unfortunate, 

This  Child  will  take  no  harm. 

But  now  the  passionate  lament, 
Which  from  the  crowd  on  shore  was  sent, 
The  cries  which  broke  from  old  and  young 
In  Gaelic,  or  the  English  tongue, 
Are  stifled — all  is  still. 


292  APPENDIX. 


And  quickly  with  a  silent  crew, 
A  boat  is  ready  to  pursue ; 
And  from  the  shore  their  course  they  take, 
And  swiftly  down  the  running  lake 
They  follow  the  blind  Boy. 

But  soon  they  move  with  softer  pace  ; 
So  have  ye  seen  the  fowler  chase 
On  Grasmere's  clear  unruffled  breast 
A  youngling  of  the  wild-duck's  nest 
With  deftly-lifted  oar ; 

Or  as  the  wily  sailors  crept 
To  seize  (while  on  the  Deep  it  slept) 
The  hapless  creature  which  did  dwell 
Erewhile  within  the  dancing  shell, 
They  steal  upon  their  prey. 

With  sound  the  least  that  can  be  made, 
They  follow,  more  and  more  afraid, 
More  cautious  as  they  draw  more  near  ; 
But  in  his  darkness  he  can  hear, 
And  guesses  their  intent. 

'  Lei-gha — Lei-gha ' — he  then  cried  out, 
'  Lei-gha — Lei-gha ' — with  eager  shout ; 
Thus  did  he  cry,  and  thus  did  pray, 
And  what  he  meant  was,  '  Keep  away, 
And  leave  me  to  myself  ! ' 

Alas !  and  when  he  felt  their  hands — 
You  've  often  heard  of  magic  wands, 
That  with  a  motion  overthrow 
A  palace  of  the  proudest  show, 
Or  melt  it  into  air : 

So  all  his  dreams — that  inward  light 
With  which  his  soul  had  shone  so  bright — 
All  vanished  ; — 'twas  a  heart-felt  cross 
To  him,  a  heavy,  bitter  loss, 
As  he  had  ever  known. 


APPENDIX.  293 

But  hark  !  a  gratulating  voice, 
With  which  the  very  hills  rejoice  : 
"Tis  from  the  crowd,  who  tremblingly 
Have  watched  the  event,  and  now  can  see 
That  he  is  safe  at  last. 

And  then,  when  he  was  brought  to  land, 
Full  sure  they  were  a  happy  band, 
Which,  gathering  round,  did  on  the  banks 
Of  that  great  Water  give  God  thanks, 
And  welcomed  the  poor  Child. 

And  in  the  general  joy  of  heart 
The  blind  Boy's  little  dog  took  part  ; 
He  leapt  about,  and  oft  did  kiss 
His  master's  hands  in  sign  of  bliss, 
With  sound  like  lamentation. 

But  most  of  all,  his  Mother  dear, 
She  who  had  fainted  with  her  fear, 
Rejoiced  when  waking  she  espies 
The  Child  ;  when  she  can  trust  her  eyes, 
And  touches  the  bund  Boy. 

She  led  him  home,  and  wept  amain, 
When  he  was  in  the  house  again  : 
Tears  flowed  in  torrents  from  her  eyes ; 
She  kissed  him — how  could  she  chastise  ? 
She  was  too  happy  far. 

Thus,  after  he  had  fondly  braved 
The  perilous  Deep,  the  Boy  was  saved  ; 
And,  though  his  fancies  had  been  wild, 
Yet  he  was  pleased  and  reconciled 
To  live  in  peace  on  shore. 

And  in  the  lonely  Highland  dell 
Still  do  they  keep  the  Turtle-shell ; 
And  long  the  story  will  repeat 
Of  the  blind  Boy's  adventurous  feat, 
And  how  he  was  preserved. 


294  APPENDIX. 

APPENDIX  E. 

'  Mirrors  upon  the  ceiling  and  against  the  walls' — PAGE  210. 
EFFUSION, 

IN  THE  PLEASURE-GROUND  ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  BRAN,    NEAR 
DUNKELD. 

WHAT  He — who,  mid  the  kindred  throng 

Of  Heroes  that  inspired  his  song, 

Doth  yet  frequent  the  hill  of  storms, 

The  stars  dim-twinkling  through  their  forms  ! 

What !  Ossian  here — a  painted  Thrall, 

Mute  fixture  on  a  stuccoed  wall ; 

To  serve — an  unsuspected  screen 

For  show  that  must  not  yet  be  seen  ; 

And,  when  the  moment  comes,  to  part 

And  vanish  by  mysterious  art ; 

Head,  harp,  and  body,  split  asunder, 

For  ingress  to  a  world  of  wonder ; 

A  gay  saloon,  with  waters  dancing 

Upon  the  sight  wherever  glancing  ; 

One  loud  cascade  in  front,  and  lo  ! 

A  thousand  like  it,  white  as  snow — 

Streams  on  the  walls,  and  torrent-foam 

As  active  round  the  hollow  dome, 

Illusive  cataracts !  of  their  terrors 

Not  stripped,  nor  voiceless  in  the  mirrors, 

That  catch  the  pageant  from  the  flood 

Thundering  adown  a  rocky  wood. 

What  pains  to  dazzle  and  confound  ! 

What  strife  of  colour,  shape,  and  sound 

In  this  quaint  medley,  that  might  seem 

Devised  out  of  a  sick  man's  dream  ! 

Strange  scene,  fantastic  and  uneasy 

As  ever  made  a  maniac  dizzy, 

When  disenchanted  from  the  mood 

That  loves  on  sullen  thoughts  to  brood  ! 


APPENDIX.  295 

O  Nature — in  thy  changeful  visions, 
Through  all  thy  most  abrupt  transitions, 
Smooth,  graceful,  tender,  or  sublime — 
Ever  averse  to  pantomime, 
Thee  neither  do  they  know  nor  us 
Thy  servants,  who  can  trifle  thus  ; 
Else  verily  the  sober  powers 
Of  rock  that  frowns,  and  stream  that  roars, 
Exalted  by  congenial  sway 
Of  Spirits,  and  the  undying  Lay, 
And  Names  that  moulder  not  away, 
Had  wakened  some  redeeming  thought 
More  worthy  of  this  favoured  Spot ; 
Recalled  some  feeling — to  set  free 
The  Bard  from  such  indignity  ! 

The  Effigies  of  a  valiant  Wight 
I  once  beheld,  a  Templar  Knight  ;* 
Not  prostrate,  not  like  those  that  rest 
On  tombs,  with  palms  together  prest, 
But  sculptured  out  of  living  stone, 
And  standing  upright  and  alone, 
Both  hands  with  rival  energy 
Employed  in  setting  his  sword  free 
From  its  dull  sheath — stern  sentinel 
Intent  to  guard  St.  Robert's  cell ; 
As  if  with  memory  of  the  affray 
Far  distant,  when,  as  legends  say, 
The  Monks  of  Fountain's  thronged  to  force 
From  its  dear  home  the  Hermit's  corse, 
That  in  their  keeping  it  might  lie, 
To  crown  their  abbey's  sanctity. 
So  had  they  rushed  into  the  grot 
Of  sense  despised,  a  world  forgot, 
And  torn  him  from  his  loved  retreat, 
Where  altar-stone  and  rock-hewn  seat 

*  On  the  banks  of  the  River  Nid,  near  Knaresborough. 


296  APPENDIX. 

Still  hint  that  quiet  best  is  found, 
Even  by  the  Living,  under  ground  ; 
But  a  bold  Knight,  the  selfish  aim 
Defeating,  put  the  Monks  to  shame, 
There  where  you  see  his  Image  stand 
Bare  to  the  sky,  with  threatening  brand 
Which  lingering  NID  is  proud  to  show 
Keflected  in  the  pool  below. 

Thus,  like  the  men  of  earliest  days, 
Our  sires  set  forth  their  grateful  praise : 
Uncouth  the  workmanship,  and  rude  ! 
But,  nursed  in  mountain  solitude, 
Might  some  aspiring  artist  dare 
To  seize  whate'er,  through  misty  air, 
A  ghost,  by  glimpses,  may  present 
Of  imitable  lineament, 
And  give  the  phantom  an  array 
That  less  should  scorn  the  abandoned  clay ; 
Then  let  him  hew  with  patient  stroke 
An  Ossian  out  of  mural  rock, 
And  leave  the  figurative  Man — 
Upon  thy  margin,  roaring  Bran ! — 
Fixed  like  the  Templar  of  the  steep, 
An  everlasting  watch  to  keep  ; 
With  local  sanctities  in  trust, 
More  precious  than  a  hermit's  dust  ; 
And  virtues  through  the  mass  infused, 
Which  old  idolatry  abused. 

What  though  the  Granite  would  deny 
All  fervour  to  the  sightless  eye  ; 
And  touch  from  rising  suns  in  vain 
Solicit  a  Memnonian  strain  ; 
Yet,  in  some  fit  of  anger  sharp, 
The  wind  might  force  the  deep-grooved  harp 
To  utter  melancholy  moans 
Not  unconnected  with  the  tones 
Of  soul-sick  flesh  and  weary  bones  ; 


APPENDIX.  297 

While  grove  and  river  notes  would  lend, 
Less  deeply  sad,  with  these  to  blend  ! 

Vain  pleasures  of  luxurious  life, 
For  ever  with  yourselves  at  strife  ; 
Through  town  and  country  both  deranged 
By  affectations  interchanged, 
And  all  the  perishable  gauds 
That  heaven-deserted  man  applauds  ; 
When  will  your  hapless  patrons  learn 
To  watch  and  ponder — to  discern 
The  freshness,  the  everlasting  youth, 
Of  admiration  sprung  from  truth ; 
From  beauty  infinitely  growing 
Upon  a  mind  with  love  o'erflowing — 
To  sound  the  depths  of  every  Art 
That  seeks  its  wisdom  through  the  heart  ? 

Thus  (where  the  intrusive  Pile,  ill-graced 
With  baubles  of  theatric  taste, 
O'erlooks  the  torrent  breathing  showers 
On  motley  bands  of  alien  iowers 
In  stiff  confusion  set  or  sown, 
Till  Nature  cannot  find  her  own, 
Or  keep  a  remnant  of  the  sod 
Which  Caledonian  Heroes  trod) 
I  mused  ;  and,  thirsting  for  redress, 
Recoiled  into  the  wilderness. 


298  APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX    F. 

'  Three  or  four  times  the  size  of  Bowder  Stone.1 — PAGE  225. 

FROM  the  Tour  in  Scotland,  1814: — "The  account  of  the  Brownie's 
Cell  and  the  Ruins  was  given  me  by  a  man  we  met  with  on  the  banks  of 
Loch  Lomond,  a  little  above  Tarbet,  and  in  front  of  a  huge  mass  of  rock, 
by  the  side  of  which  we  were  told  preachings  were  often  held  in  the  open 
air.  The  place  is  quite  a  solitude,  and  the  surrounding  scenery  quite 
striking.' 

SUGGESTED  BY  A  BEAUTIFUL  RUIN  UPON  ONE  OF  THE  ISLANDS  OF  LOCH 
LOMOND,  A  PLACE  CHOSEN  FOR  THE  RETREAT  OF  A  SOLITARY  INDIVIDUAI,, 
FROM  WHOM  THIS  HABITATION  ACQUIRED  THE  NAME  OF 

THE   BROWNIE'S   CELL. 

I. 

To  barren  heath,  bleak  moor,  and  quaking  fen, 
Or  depth  of  labyrinthine  glen  ; 
Or  into  trackless  forest  set 
With  trees,  whose  lofty  umbrage  met ; 
World- wearied  Men  withdrew  of  yore ; 
(Penance  their  trust,  and  prayer  their  store  ; ) 
And  in  the  wilderness  were  bound 
To  such  apartments  as  they  found  ; 
Or  with  a  new  ambition  raised  ; 
That  God  might  suitably  be  praised. 

II. 

High  lodged  the  Warrior,  like  a  bird  of  prey  ; 
Or  where  broad  waters  round  him  lay  : 
But  this  wild  Ruin  is  no  ghost 
Of  his  devices — buried,  lost ! 
Within  this  little  lonely  isle 
There  stood  a  consecrated  Pile  ; 
Where  tapers  burned,  and  mass  was  sung, 
For  them  whose  timid  Spirits  clung 
To  mortal  succour,  though  the  tomb 
Had  fixed,  for  ever  fixed,  their  doom  ! 


APPENDIX.  299 

in. 

Upon  those  servants  of  another  world, 
When  madding  Power  her  bolts  had  hurled, 
Their  habitation  shook  ; — it  fell, 
And  perished,  save  one  narrow  cell ; 
Whither  at  length,  a  Wretch  retired 
Who  neither  grovelled  nor  aspired  : 
He,  struggling  in  the  net  of  pride, 
The  future  scorned,  the  past  defied  ; 
Still  tempering,  from  the  ungnilty  forge 
Of  vain  conceit,  an  iron  scourge  ! 

IV. 

Proud  Remnant  was  he  of  a  fearless  Race, 
Who  stood  and  flourished  face  to  face 
With  their  perennial  hills  ; — but  Crime, 
Hastening  the  stern  decrees  of  Time, 
Brought  low  a  Power,  which  from  its  home 
Burst,  when  repose  grew  wearisome  ; 
And,  taking  impulse  from  the  sword, 
And,  mocking  its  own  plighted  word, 
Had  found,  in  ravage  widely  dealt, 
Its  warfare's  bourn,  its  travel's  belt ! 

v. 

All,  all  were  dispossessed,  save  him  whose  smile 
Shot  lightning  through  this  lonely  Isle  ! 
No  right  had  he  but  what  he  made 
To  this  small  spot,  his  leafy  shade  ; 
But  the  ground  lay  within  that  ring 
To  which  he  only  dared  to  cling  ; 
Renouncing  here,  as  worse  than  dead, 
The  craven  few  who  bowed  the  head 
Beneath  the  change  ;  who  heard  a  claim 
How  loud  !  yet  lived  in  peace  with  shame. 

VI. 

From  year  to  year  this  shaggy  Mortal  went 
(So  seemed  it)  down  a  strange  descent : 
Till  they,  who  saw  his  outward  frame, 
Fixed  on  him  an  unhallowed  name  ; 


300  APPENDIX. 

Him,  free  from  all  malicious  taint, 
And  guiding,  like  the  Patmos  Saint, 
A  pen  unwearied — to  indite, 
In  his  lone  Isle,  the  dreams  of  night ; 
Impassioned  dreams,  that  strove  to  span 
The  faded  glories  of  his  Clan  ! 

VII. 

Suns  that  through  blood  their  western  harbour  sought, 

And  stars  that  in  their  courses  fought ; 

Towers  rent,  winds  combating  with  woods, 

Lands  deluged  by  unbridled  floods  ; 

And  beast  and  bird  that  from  the  spell 

Of  sleep  took  import  terrible  ; — 

These  types  mysterious  (if  the  show 

Of  battle  and  the  routed  foe 

Had  failed)  would  furnish  an  array 

Of  matter  for  the  dawning  day  ! 

VIII. 

How  disappeared  He  ? — ask  the  newt  and  toad, 
Inheritors  of  his  abode  ; 
The  otter  crouching  undisturbed, 
In  her  dark  cleft ; — but  be  thou  curbed, 
0  froward  Fancy  !  'mid  a  scene 
Of  aspect  winning  and  serene  ; 
For  those  offensive  creatures  shun 
The  inquisition  of  the  sun  ! 
And  in  this  region  flowers  delight, 
And  all  is  lovely  to  the  sight. 

IX. 

Spring  finds  not  here  a  melancholy  breast, 
When  she  applies  her  annual  test 
To  dead  and  living  ;  when  her  breath 
Quickens,  as  now,  the  withered  heath  ; — 
Nor  flaunting  Summer — when  he  throws 
His  soul  into  the  briar-rose  ; 
Or  calls  the  lily  from  her  sleep 
Prolonged  beneath  the  bordering  deep  ; 


APPENDIX.  301 

Nor  Autumn,  when  the  viewless  wren 
Is  warbling  near  the  BBOWNIE'S  Den. 

x. 

Wild  Relique  !  beauteous  as  the  chosen  spot 
In  Nysa's  isle,  the  embellished  grot ; 
Whither,  by  care  of  Libyan  Jove, 
(High  Servant  of  paternal  Love) 
Young  Bacchus  was  conveyed — to  lie 
Safe  from  his  step-dame  Rhea's  eye  ; 
Where  bud,  and  bloom,  and  fruitage,  glowed, 
Close-crowding  round  the  infant  god  ; 
All  colours, — and  the  liveliest  streak 
A  foil  to  his  celestial  cheek  ! 


APPENDIX   G. 

'  The  bonny  Holms  of  Farrow.' — PAGE  254. 

In  the  Tour  in  Scotland,  181 4,  the  Poet  writes  : — '  I  seldom  read  or 
think  of  this  Poem  without  regretting  that  my  dear  sister  was  not  of  the 
party,  as  she  would  have  had  so  much  delight  in  recalling  the  time  when 
travelling  together  in  Scotland  we  declined  going  in  search  of  this  cele- 
brated stream.' 

YARROW   VISITED, 

SEPTEMBER  1814. 

AND  is  this — Yarrow  ? — This  the  Stream 

Of  which  my  fancy  cherished, 
So  faithfully,  a  waking  dream  ? 

An  image  that  hath  perished  ! 
O  that  some  Minstrel's  harp  were  near. 

To  utter  notes  of  gladness, 
And  chase  this  silence  from  the  air, 

That  fills  my  heart  with  sadness  ! 

Yet  why  ?  — a  silvery  current  flows 

With  uncontrolled  meanderings ; 
Xor  have  these  eyes  by  greener  hills 

Been  soothed,  in  all  my  wanderings. 


302  APPENDIX. 


And,  through  her  depths,  St.  Mary's  Lake 

Is  visibly  delighted ; 
For  not  a  feature  of  those  hills 

Is  in  the  mirror  slighted. 

A  blue  sky  bends  o'er  Yarrow  vale, 

Save  where  that  pearly  whiteness 
Is  round  the  rising  sun  diffused 

A  tender  hazy  brightness  ; 
Mild  dawn  of  promise  !  that  excludes 

All  profitless  dejection  ; 
Though  not  unwilling  here  to  admit 

A  pensive  recollection. 

Where  was  it  that  the  famous  Flower 

Of  Yarrow  Vale  lay  bleeding  ? 
His  bed  perchance  was  yon  smooth  mound 

On  which  the  herd  is  feeding  : 
And  haply  from  this  crystal  pool, 

Now  peaceful  as  the  morning, 
The  Water-wraith  ascended  thrice — 

And  gave  his  doleful  warning. 

Delicious  is  the  Lay  that  sings 

The  haunts  of  happy  Lovers, 
The  path  that  leads  them  to  the  grove, 

The  leafy  grove1  that  covers  : 
And  Pity  sanctifies  the  Verse 

That  paints,  by  strength  of  sorrow, 
The  unconquerable  strength  of  love  ; 

Bear  witness,  rueful  Yarrow  ! 

But  thou,  thou  didst  appear  so  fair 

To  fond  imagination, 
Dost  rival  in  the  light  of  day 

Her  delicate  creation  : 
Meek  loveliness  is  round  thee  spread, 

A  softness  still  and  holy ; 
The  grace  of  forest  charms  decayed, 

And  pastoral  melancholy. 

That  region  left,  the  vale  unfolds 
Rich  groves  of  lofty  stature, 


APPENDIX.  303 

With  Yarrow  winding  through  the  pomp 

Of  cultivated  nature ; 
And,  rising  from  those  lofty  groves, 

Behold  a  Ruin  hoary  ! 
The  shattered  front  of  Newark's  Towers, 

Renowned  iu  Border  story. 

Fail-  scenes  for  childhood's  opening  bloom, 

For  sportive  youth  to  stray  in  ; 
For  manhood  to  enjoy  his  strength  ; 

And  age  to  wear  away  in  ! 
Yon  cottage  seems  a  bower  of  bliss, 

A  covert  for  protection 
Of  tender  thoughts,  that  nestle  there — 

The  brood  of  chaste  affection. 

How  sweet,  on  this  autumnal  day, 

The  wild-wood  fruits  to  gather, 
And  on  my  True-love's  forehead  plant 

A  crest  of  blooming  heather  ! 
And  what  if  I  enwreathed  my  own  ! 

'Twere  no  offence  to  reason  ; 
The  sober  Hills  thus  deck  their  brows 

To  meet  the  wintry  season. 

I  see — but  not  by  sight  alone, 

Loved  Yarrow,  have  I  won  thee  ; 
A  ray  of  fancy  still  survives — 

Her  sunshine  plays  upon  thee  ! 
Thy  ever-youthful  waters  keep 

A  course  of  lively  pleasure  ; 
And  gladsome  notes  my  lips  can  breathe, 

Accordant  to  the  measure. 

The  vapours  linger  round  the  Heights, 

They  melt,  and  soon  must  vanish ; 
One  hour  is  theirs,  nor  more  is  mine — 

Sad  thoughts,  which  I  would  banish, 
But  that  I  know,  where'er  I  go, 

Thy  genuine  image,  Yarrow  ! 
Will  dwell  with  me — to  heighten  joy, 

And  cheer  my  mind  in  sorrow. 


304  APPENDIX. 

IT  may  interest  many  to  read  Wordsworth's  own  comment  on  the  two 
following  poems.  'On  Tuesday  morning,'  he  says,  'Sir  Walter  Scott 
accompanied  us  and  most  of  the  party  to  Newark  Castle,  on  the  Yarrow. 
When  we  alighted  from  the  carriages  he  walked  pretty  stoutly,  and  had 
great  pleasure  in  revisiting  there  his  favourite  haunts.  Of  that  excursion 
the  verses  "Yarrow  Revisited"  are  a  memorial.  Notwithstanding  the 
romance  that  pervades  Sir  Walter's  works,  and  attaches  to  many  of  his 
habits,  there  is  too  much  pressure  of  fact  for  these  verses  to  harmonize, 
as  much  as  I  could  wish,  with  the  two  preceding  poems.  On  our  return  in 
the  afternoon,  we  had  to  cross  the  Tweed,  directly  opposite  Abbotsford. 
The  wheels  of  our  carriage  grated  upon  the  pebbles  in  the  bed  of  the  stream, 
that  there  flows  somewhat  rapidly.  A  rich  but  sad  light,  of  rather  a  purple 
than  a  golden  hue,  was  spread  over  the  Eildon  Hills  at  that  moment ; 
and  thinking  it  probable  that  it  might  be  the  last  time  Sir  Walter  would 
cross  the  stream,  I  was  not  a  little  moved,  and  expressed  some  of  my 
feelings  in  the  sonnet  beginning 

"A  trouble  not  of  clouds,"  etc. 

At  noon  on  Thursday  we  left  Abbotsford,  and  on  the  morning  of  that  day 
Sir  Walter  and  I  had  a  serious  conversation,  tSte-d-tHe,  when  he  spoke 
with  gratitude  of  the  happy  life  which,  upon  the  whole,  he  had  led. 

'  In  this  interview  also  it  was,  that,  upon  my  expressing  a  hope  of  his 
health  being  benefited  by  the  climate  of  the  country  to  which  he  was  going, 
and  by  the  interest  he  would  take  in  the  classic  remembrances  of  Italy, 
he  made  use  of  the  quotation  from  "Yarrow  Un  visited,"  as  recorded  by  me 
in  the  "  Musings  near  Aquapendente,"  six  years  afterwards.  .  .  .  Both  the 
"  Yarrow  Revisited"  and  the  "Sonnet  "were  sent  him  before  his  departure 
from  England.' 

YARROW    REVISITED. 

THE  gallant  Youth,  who  may  have  gained, 

Or  seeks,  a  '  winsome  Marrow,' 
Was  but  an  Infant  in  the  lap 

When  first  I  looked  on  Yarrow  ; 
Once  more,  by  Newark's  Castle-gate 

Long  left  without  a  warder, 
I  stood,  looked,  listened,  and  with  Thee, 

Great  Minstrel  of  the  Border ! 

Grave  thoughts  ruled  wide  on  that  sweet  day, 

Their  dignity  installing 
In  gentle  bosoms,  while  sere  leaves 

Were  on  the  bough,  or  falling  ; 


APPENDIX.  305 

But  breezes  played,  and  sunshine  gleamed — 

The  forest  to  embolden  ; 
Reddened  the  fiery  hues,  and  shot 

Transparence  through  the  golden. 

For  busy  thoughts  the  Stream  flowed  on 

In  foamy  agitation  ; 
And  slept  in  many  a  crystal  pool 

For  quiet  contemplation : 
No  public  and  no  private  care 

The  freeborn  mind  enthralling, 
We  made  a  day  of  happy  hours, 

Our  happy  days  recalling. 

Brisk  Youth  appeared,  the  Morn  of  youth, 

With  freaks  of  graceful  folly, — 
Life's  temperate  Noon,  her  sober  Eve, 

Her  Night  not  melancholy ; 
Past,  present,  future,  all  appeared 

In  harmony  united, 
Like  guests  that  meet,  and  some  from  far, 

By  cordial  love  invited. 

And  if,  as  Yarrow,  through  the  woods 

And  down  the  meadow  ranging, 
Did  meet  us  with  unaltered  face, 

Though  we  were  changed  and  changing ; 
If,  then,  some  natural  shadows  spread, 

Our  inward  prospect  over, 
The  soul's  deep  valley  was  not  slow 

Its  brightness  to  recover. 

Eternal  blessings  on  the  Muse, 

And  her  divine  employment ! 
The  blameless  Muse,  who  trains  her  Sons 

For  hope  and  calm  enjoyment ; 
Albeit  sickness,  lingering  yet, 

Has  o'er  their  pillow  brooded  ; 
And  Care  waylays  their  steps — a  Sprite 

Not  easily  eluded. 

U 


306  APPENDIX. 

For  thee,  0  SCOTT  !  compelled  to  change 

Green  Eildon-hill  and  Cheviot 
For  warm  Vesuvio's  vine-clad  slopes  ; 

And  leave  thy  Tweed  and  Teviot 
For  mild  Sorento's  breezy  waves  ; 

May  classic  Fancy,  linking 
With  native  Fancy  her  fresh  aid, 

Preserve  thy  heart  from  sinking  ! 

O  !  while  they  minister  to  thee, 

Each  vying  with  the  other, 
May  Health  return  to  mellow  Age, 

With  Strength,  her  venturous  brother  ; 
And  Tiber,  and  each  brook  and  rill 

Renowned  in  song  and  story, 
With  unimagined  beauty  shine, 

Nor  lose  one  ray  of  glory  ! 

For  Thou,  upon  a  hundred  streams, 

By  tales  of  love  and  sorrow, 
Of  faithful  love,  undaunted  truth, 

Hast  shed  the  power  of  Yarrow  ; 
And  streams  unknown,  hills  yet  unseen, 

Wherever  they  invite  Thee, 
At  parent  Nature's  grateful  call, 

With  gladness  must  requite  Thee. 

A  gracious  welcome  shall  be  thine, 

Such  looks  of  love  and  honour 
As  thy  own  Yarrow  gave  to  me 

When  first  I  gazed  upon  her ; 
Beheld  what  I  had  feared  to  see, 

Unwilling  to  surrender 
Dreams  treasured  up  from  early  days, 

The  holy  and  the  tender. 

And  what,  for  this  frail  world,  were  all, 
That  mortals  do  or  suffer, 

Did  no  responsive  harp,  no  pen, 
Memorial  tribute  offer  ? 


APPENDIX.  307 

Yea,  what  were  mighty  Nature's  self  ? 

Her  features,  could  they  win  us, 
Unhelped  by  the  poetic  voice 

That  hourly  speaks  within  us  ? 
Nor  deem  that  localised  Romance 

Plays  false  with  our  affections  ; 
Unsanctifies  our  tears — made  sport 

For  fanciful  dejections  : 
Ah,  no  !  the  visions  of  the  past 

Sustain  the  heart  in  feeling 
Life  as  she  is — our  changeful  Life, 

With  friends  and  kindred  dealing. 

Bear  witness,  Ye,  whose  thoughts  that  day 

In  Yarrow's  groves  were  centred  ; 
Who  through  the  silent  portal  arch 

Of  mouldering  Newark  enter'd  ; 
And  climb  the  winding  stair  that  once 

Too  timidly  was  mounted 
By  the  'last  Minstrel,'  (not  the  last  !) 

Ere  he  his  Tale  recounted. 

Flow  on  for  ever,  Yarrow  Stream  ! 

Fulfil  thy  pensive  duty, 
Well  pleased  that  future  Bards  should  chant 

For  simple  hearts  thy  beauty  ; 
To  dream-light  dear  while  yet  unseen, 

Dear  to  the  common  sunshine, 
And  dearer  still,  as  now  I  feel, 

To  memory's  shadowy  moonshine  ! 


ON  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  FROM 
ABBOTSFORD  FOR  NAPLES. 

A  TROUBLE,  not  of  clouds,  or  weeping  rain, 
Nor  of  the  setting  sun's  pathetic  light 
Engendered,  hangs  o'er  Eildon's  triple  height : 
Spirits  of  Power,  assembled  there,  complain 
For  kindred  Power  departing  from  their  sight ; 
While  Tweed,  best  pleased  in  chanting  a  blithe  strain, 
Saddens  his  voice  again,  and  yet  again. 


308  APPENDIX. 

Lift  up  your  hearts,  ye  Mourners  !  for  the  might 

Of  the  whole  world's  good  wishes  with  him  goes  ; 

Blessings  and  prayers  in  nobler  retinue 

Than  sceptered  king  or  laurelled  conqueror  knows, 

Follow  this  wondrous  Potentate.     Be  true, 

Ye  winds  of  ocean,  and  the  midland  sea, 

Wafting  your  Charge  to  soft  Parthenope  ! 


THE   TROSSACHS. 

[Compare  with  this  Sonnet  the  poem  composed  about  thirty  years  earlier 
on  nearly  the  same  spot  of  ground,  '  What !  you  are  stepping  westward  ? ' 
(See  p.  221.)  This  earlier  poem,  one  of  the  most  truly  ethereal  and  ideal 
Wordsworth  ever  wrote,  is  filled  with  the  overflowing  spirit  of  life  and 
hope.  In  every  line  of  it  we  feel  the  exulting  pulse  of  the 

'  traveller  through  the  world  that  lay 
Before  him  on  his  endless  way.' 

The  later  one  is  stilled  down  to  perfect  aiitumnal  quiet.  There  is  in  it  the 
chastened  pensiveness  of  one  to  whom  all  things  now 

'  do  take  a  sober  colouring  from  an  eye 
That  hath  kept  watch  o'er  man's  mortality.' 

But  the  sadness  has  at  the  heart  of  it  peaceful  hope.  This  is  Words- 
worth's own  comment : — 'As  recorded  in  my  sister's  Journal,  I  had  first 
seen  the  Trossachs  in  her  and  Coleridge's  company.  The  sentiment  that 
runs  through  this  sonnet  was  natural  to  the  season  in  which  I  again 
visited  this  beautiful  spot ;  but  this  and  some  other  sonnets  that  follow 
were  coloured  by  the  remembrance  of  my  recent  visit  to  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
and  the  melancholy  errand  on  which  he  was  going.'] 

THERE  's  not  a  nook  within  this  solemn  Pass, 

But  were  an  apt  confessional  for  One 

Taught  by  his  summer  spent,  his  autumn  gone, 

That  Life  is  but  a  tale  of  morning  grass 

Withered  at  eve.     From  scenes  of  art  which  chase 

That  thought  away,  turn,  and  with  watchful  eyes 

Feed  it  'mid  Nature's  old  felicities, 

Rocks,  rivers,  and  smooth  lakes  more  clear  than  glass 

Untouched,  unbreathed  upon.     Thrice  happy  quest, 

If  from  a  golden  perch  of  aspen  spray 

(October's  workmanship  to  rival  May) 

The  pensive  warbler  of  the  ruddy  breast 

That  moral  sweeten  by  a  heaven -taught  lay, 

Lulling  the  year,  with  all  its  cares,  to  rest  ! 


NOTES: 


NOTE  1. — '  Hatfield  was  condemned.' — PAGE  2. 

James  Hatfield,  indicted  for  having,  in  the  Lake  district,  under 
the  assumed  name  of  Hon.  Alexander  Augustus  Hope,  brother  of 
the  Earl  of  Hopetoun,  forged  certain  bills  of  exchange.  He  was 
condemned  to  death  at  Carlisle  on  August  16,  1803.  His  atrocious 
treatment  of  a  beautiful  girl,  known  in  the  district  as  '  Mary  of 
Buttermere,'  had  drawn  more  than  usual  attention  to  the  criminal. 

NOTE  2. —  'In  Captain  Wordsworth's  ship.1 — PAGE  3. 

The  '  Brother  John '  here  alluded  to  was  a  sailor.  He  was 
about  two  years  and  eight  months  younger  than  the  poet,  who 
found  in  him  quite  a  congenial  spirit.  He  perished,  with  nearly 
all  his  crew,  in  the  '  Earl  of  Abergavenny,'  East-Indiaman,  which 
he  commanded,  and  which,  owing  to  the  incompetency  of  a  pilot, 
was  in  his  last  outward  voyage_.  wrecked  on  the  Shambles  of  the 
Bill  of  Portland  on  the  night  of  Friday,  February  5,  1805.  His 
brother  William  speaks  of  him  in  verse,  as  '  a  silent  poet,'  and  in 
prose  describes  him  as  '  meek,  affectionate,  silently  enthusiastic, 
loving  all  quiet  things,  and  a  poet  in  everything  but  words.'  Allusions 
to  this  sailor-brother  occur  in  several  of  the  poems,  as  in  those 
lines  beginning  'When  to  the  attractions  of  the  busy  world,'  to  be 
found  among  the  'Poems  on  the  Naming  of  Places,'  also  in  the 
'  Elegiac  Stanzas  suggested  by  a  Picture  of  Peele  Castle  in  a  Storm,' 
and  in  other  poems. 

NOTE  3. — '  There  is  no  stone  to  mark  the  spot.' — PAGE  5. 

'  The  body  of  Burns  was  not  allowed  to  remain  long  in  this  place. 
To  suit  the  plan  of  a  rather  showy  mausoleum,  his  remains  were 


310  NOTES. 

removed  into  a  more  commodious  spot  of  the  same  kirkyard  on  the 
5th  July  1815.     The  coffin  was  partly  dissolved  away ;  but  the  ^ 
curling  locks  of  the  poet  were  as  glossy,  and  seemed  as  fresh,  as  on 
the  day  of  his  death.' — Life  of  Burns,  by  Allan  Cunningham. 

NOTE  4. — '  They  had  a  large  library. ,' — PAGE  19. 

The  following  account  of  this  library  is  taken  from  Dr.  John 
Brown's  delightful  tract,  The  Enlerltin.  The  author  will  excuse 
wholesale  appropriation  to  illustrate  a  journal  which,  I  believe, 
will  be  dear  to  him,  and  to  all  who  feel  as  he  does : — 

'  The  miners  at  Leadhills  are  a  reading,  a  hard-reading  people  ; 
and  to  any  one  looking  into  the  catalogue  of  their  "  Reading  Society," 
selected  by  the  men  themselves  for  their  own  uses  and  tastes,  this 
will  be  manifest.  We  have  no  small  gratification  in  holding  their 
diploma  of  honorary  membership — signed  by  the  preses  and  clerk, 
and  having  the  official  seal,  significant  of  the  craft  of  the  place — 
of  this,  we  venture  to  say,  one  of  the  oldest  and  best  village-libraries 
in  the  kingdom,  having  been  founded  in  1741,  when  the  worthy 
miners  of  that  day,  headed  by  James  Wells  and  clerked  by  William 
Wright,  did,  on  the  23d  November,  "  condescend  upon  certain  articles 
and  laws  " — as  grave  and  thorough  as  if  they  were  the  constitution 
of  a  commonwealth,  and  as  sturdily  independent  as  if  no  Earl  were 
their  superior  and  master.  "  It  is  hereby  declared  that  no  right  is 
hereby  given,  nor  shall  at  any  time  be  given,  to  the  said  Earl  of 
Hopetoun,  or  his  aforesaids,  or  to  any  person  or  persons  whatever, 
of  disposing  of  any  books  or  other  effects  whatever  belonging  to  the 
Society,  nor  of  taking  any  concern  with  the  Society's  affairs,"  etc. 
As  an  indication  of  the  wild  region  and  the  distances  travelled,  one 
of  the  rules  is,  "  that  every  member  not  residing  in  Leadhills  shall 
be  provided  with  a  bag  sufficient  to  keep  out  the  rain."  Here  is 
the  stiff,  covenanting  dignity  cropping  out — "  Every  member  shall 
(at  the  annual  meeting)  deliver  what  he  hath  to  say  to  the  preses ; 
and  if  two  or  more  members  attempt  to  speak  at  a  time,  the  preses 
shall  determine  who  shall  speak  first ; "  and  "  members  guilty  of 
indecency,  or  unruly,  obstinate  behaviour  "  are  to  be  punished  "  by 
fine,  suspension,  or  exclusion,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  trans- 
gression." The  Westminster  Divines  could  not  have  made  a  tighter 
job.' 


'NOTES.  311 

NOTE  5. — '  The  first  view  of  the  Clyde.' — PAGE  31. 

This  was  not  their  first  view  of  the  Clyde.  They  had  been 
travelling  within  sight  of  it  without  knowing  it  for  full  twenty  miles 
before  this,  ever  since  coming  down  the  Daer  Water  from  Leadhills 
to  Elvanfoot :  they  there  reached  the  meeting-place  of  that  water 
with  a  small  stream  that  flows  from  Ericstane.  These  two  united 
become  the  Clyde. 

NOTE  6. — '  I  wished  Joanna  had  been  there  to  laugh.' — PAGE  41. 

Joanna  Hutchinson,  Mrs.  Wordsworth's  sister.  Among  the 
'  Poems  on  the  Naming  of  Places '  is  one  addressed  to  her,  in  1800, 
in  which  the  following  well-known  lines  occur  : — 

"  As  it  befel, 

One  summer  morning  we  had  walked  abroad 
At  break  of  day,  Joanna  and  myself. 
— 'Twas  that  delightful  season  when  the  broom, 
Full-flowered,  and  visible  on  every  steep, 
Along  the  copses  runs  in  veins  of  gold. 
Our  pathway  led  us  on  to  Rotha's  banks, 
And  when  we  came  in  front  of  that  tall  rock 
That  eastward  looks,  I  there  stopped  short  and  stood 
Tracing  the  lofty  barrier  with  my  eye 
From  base  to  summit ;  such  delight  I  found 
To  note  in  shrub  and  tree,  in  stone  and  flower 
That  intermixture  of  delicious  hues, 
Along  so  vast  a  surface,  all  at  once, 
In  one  impression,  by  connecting  force 
Of  their  own  beauty,  imaged  in  the  heart. 
— When  I  had  gazed  perhaps  two  minutes'  space, 
Joanna,  looking  in  my  eyes,  beheld 
That  ravishment  of  mine,  and  laughed  aloud ; 
The  Kock,  like  something  starting  from  a  sleep, 
Took  up  the  Lady's  voice  and  laughed  again ; 
That  ancient  woman  seated  on  Helm  Crag 
Was  ready  with  her  cavern  ;  Hammarscar, 
And  the  tall  Steep  of  Silverhaw,  sent  forth 
A  noise  of  laughter  ;  southern  Loughrigg  heard, 


312  NOTES. 

And  Fairfield  answered  with  a  mountain  tone  ; 
Helvellyn  far  into  the  clear  blue  sky 
Carried  the  Lady's  voice, — old  Skiddaw  blew 
His  speaking-trumpet ; — back  out  of  the  clouds 
Of  Glaramara  southward  came  the  voice  ; 
And  Kirkstone  tossed  it  from  his  misty  head.' 

In  his  comments  made  on  his  Poems  late  in  life,  Wordsworth 
said  of  this  one : — '  The  effect  of  her  laugh  is  an  extravagance  ; 
though  the  effect  of  the  reverberation  of  voices  in  some  parts  of 
the  mountains  is  very  striking.  There  is,  in  the  "  Excursion,"  an 
allusion  to  the  bleat  of  a  lamb  thus  re-echoed,  and  described  with- 
out any  exaggeration,  as  I  heard  it,  on  the  side  of  Stickle  Tarn, 
from  the  precipice  that  stretches  on  to  Langdale  Pikes.' 

NOTE  7. — '  With  two  bells  hanging  in  the  open  air.1 — PAGE  68. 

'  When  I  wrote  this  account  of  the  village  of  Luss,  I  fully  believed 
I  had  a  perfect  recollection  of  the  two  bells,  as  I  have  described 
them  ;  but  I  am  half  tempted  to  think  they  have  been  a  creation  of 
my  own  fancy,  though  no  image  that  I  know  I  have  actually  seen 
is  at  this  day  more  vividly  impressed  upon  my  mind.' — MS.  note, 
Author,  1806. 

NOTE  8. — 'Her  countenance  corresponded  with  the  unklndness  of 
denying  us  afire  in  a  cold  nightS — PAGE  70. 

The  writer,  inhospitably  as  she  had  been  treated,  was  more 
fortunate  than  a  distinguished  French  traveller,  who  arrived  at  Luss 
at  night,  a  few  years  earlier.  The  hostess  made  signs  to  him  that 
he  should  not  speak,  hustled  him  into  a  stable,  and  said  solemnly, 
'  The  Justiciary  Lords  do  me  the  honour  to  lodge  here  when  they 
are  on  this  circuit.  There  is  one  of  them  here  at  present.  He  is 
asleep,  and  nobody  must  disturb  him.'  And  forthwith  she  drove 
him  out  into  the  rain  and  darkness,  saying,  '  How  can  I  help  it  ? 
Make  no  noise,  his  Lordship  must  not  be  disturbed.  Every  one 
should  pay  respect  to  the  law.  God  bless  you.  Farewell.'  And  on 
they  had  to  go  fifteen  miles  to  Tarbet. — St.  Fond's  Travels,  vol.  i. 
p.  233. 


NOTES.  313 

NOTE  9. — '  /  could  not  help  smiling  when  I  saw  him  lying  by  the 
roadside.1 — PAGE  80. 

'  The  ferryman  happened  to  mention  that  a  fellow-countryman 
of  his  had  lately  come  from  America — a  wild  sort  of  genius.  This 
reminded  us  of  our  friend  whom  we  had  met  at  Loch  Lomond,  and 
we  found  that  it  was  the  same  person.  He  was  the  brother  of  the 
Lady  of  Glengyle,  who  had  made  a  gentleman  of  him  by  new- 
clothing  him  from  head  to  foot.  "  But,"  said  the  ferryman,  "  when 
the  clothes  are  worn  out,  and  his  sister  is  tired  of  supplying  him 
with  pocket-money  (which  will  probably  be  very  soon),  he  will  be 
obliged  to  betake  himself  again  to  America."  The  Lady  of  Glengyle 
has  a  house  not  far  from  the  ferry -house,  but  she  now  lives  mostly 
at  Callander  for  the  sake  of  educating  her  son.' — Author's  MS.,  1806. 

NOTE  10. — 'In  a  word,  the  Trossachs  beggar  all  description.' 
PAGE  100. 

The  world  believes,  and  will  continue  to  believe,  that  Scott  was 
the  first  '  Sassenach '  who  discovered  the  Trossachs,  as  it  was  his 
Poem  which  gave  them  world-wide  celebrity.  It  would  probably 
be  as  impossible  to  alter  this  impression,  as  it  would  be  to  substi- 
tute for  Shakespeare's  Macbeth  and  Lady  Macbeth  the  very  differ- 
ent versions  of  the  facts  and  characters  which  historical  research 
has  brought  to  light.  And  yet  it  would  be  interesting,  to  those 
who  care  for  truth  and  fact,  to  inquire,  did  time  allow,  what  first 
brought  the  Trossachs  into  notice,  and  who  first  did  so.  That  they 
had,  as  I  have  said  in  the  Preface,  some  fame  before  Scott's  Poem 
appeared,  is  clear,  else  a  stranger  like  Wordsworth  would  never 
have  gone  so  far  out  of  his  way  to  search  for  them.  Pending  a 
thorough  examination  of  the  question,  it  may  be  worth  while  here 
to  note  the  following  facts.  Miss  Wordsworth  refers  in  the  text 
to  some  work  on  the  Trossachs,  from  which  the  words  at  the  head 
of  this  note  are  taken. 

I  was  under  the  impression  that  the  work  referred  to  was  the 
well-known  '  Sketches  descriptive  of  Picturesque  Scenery  on  the 
Southern  Confines  of  Perthshire,'  by  the  Rev.  Patrick  Graham, 
minister  of  Aberfoyle,  but  it  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  Mr. 
Graham  was  not  alone  in  his  admiration  of  Highland  scenery  in 


314  NOTES, 

those  early  days.  A  neighbour  of  his,  the  Rev.  James  Robertson, 
who  was  presented  to  the  parish  of  Callander  in  1768,  wrote  a 
description  of  the  Trossachs  in  Sir  John  Sinclair's  Statistical 
Account,  and  from  the  fact  of  his  using  the  very  sentence  quoted 
by  Miss  Wordsworth,  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  the  author  of  the 
little  pamphlet.  Miss  Spence  in  her  '  Caledonian  Excursion,"  1811, 
says  that  the  Honourable  Mrs.  Murray  told  the  minister  of 
Callander  that  Scott  ought  to  have  dedicated  '  The  Lady  of  the 
Lake  '  to  her  as  the  discoverer  of  the  Trossachs  — '  Pray,  Madam,' 
said  the  good  doctor,  '  when  did  you  write  your  Tour  ? '  'In  the 
year  1794.**  'Then,  Madam,  it  is  no  presumption  in  me  to  con- 
sider that  I  was  the  person  who  in  1790  made  the  Trossachs  first 
known,  for  except  to  the  natives  and  a  few  individuals  in  this 
neighbourhood,  this  remarkable  place  had  never  been  heard  of.' 
Mr.  Robertson  died  in  1812.  There  were  thus  at  least  two  notices 
of  the  Trossachs  published  before  Mr.  Graham's  Sketches  :  these 
were  not  published  till  1806.  The,  Lady  of  the,  Lake,  was  first 
published  in  1810. 

NOTE  11.—'  Dutch  myrtle:— PAGE  101. 

This  seems  to  be  the  name  by  which  Miss  Wordsworth  knew 
the  plant  which  Lowlanders  generally  call  60^7  myrtle,  Border  men 
gale,  or  sweet  gale,  and  Highlanders  raid  (pronounced  as  roitch). 
Botanists,  I  believe,  know  it  as  Myrica  Gale,  a  most  fragrant  plant 
or  shrub,  growing  generally  in  moist  and  mossy  ground.  Perhaps 
nothing  more  surely  brings  back  the  feeling  that  you  are  in  the 
very  Highlands  than  the  first  scent  of  this  plant  caught  on  the 
breeze. 

NOTE  12. — '  Bonnier  than  Loch  Lomond.' — PAGE  116. 

As  an  illustration  of  local  jealousy,  I  may  mention  that  when 
Mr.  Jamieson,  the  editor  of  the  fifth  edition  of  Burt's  Letters,  was 
in  the  Highlands  in  1814,  four  years  after  the  publication  of  Scott's 
Poem,  and  eleven  after  the  Wordsworths'  visit,  he  met  a  savage* 

*  If  this  is  not  a  misprint,  the  Lady  had  antedated  her  tour  by  two  years,  as  she 
made  it  in  1796  and  published  it  in  1799. 


NOTES.  315 

looking  fellow  on  the  top  of  Ben  Lomond,  the  image  of  '  Red 
Murdoch,'  who  told  him  that  he  had  been  a  guide  to  the  mountain 
for  more  than  forty  years,  but  now  '  a  Walter  Scott '  had  spoiled 
his  trade.  'I  wish,'  said  he,  'I  had  him  in  a  ferry  over  Loch 
Lomond  ;  I  should  be  after  sinking  the  boat,  if  I  drowned  myself 
into  the  bargain,  for  ever  since  he  wrote  his  "  Lady  of  the  Lake," 
as  they  call  it,  everybody  goes  to  see  that  filthy  hole,  Loch  Ket- 
terine.  The  devil  confound  his  ladies  and  his  lakes  ! ' 

NOTE  13. — '  For  poor  Ann  Tyson's  sake.' — Page  145. 

The  dame  with  whom  Wordsworth  lodged  at  Hawkshead.  Of 
her  he  has  spoken  with  affectionate  tenderness  in  the  '  Prelude  : ' — 

'  The  thoughts  of  gratitude  shall  fall  like  dew 
Upon  thy  grave,  good  creature  !  ' 

Her  garden,  its  brook,  and  dark  pine  tree,  and  the  stone  table 
under  it,  were  all  dear  to  hia  memory,  and  the  chamber  in  which 
he 

'  Had  lain  awake  on  summer  nights  to  watch 
The  moon  in  splendour  couched  among  the  leaves 
Of  a  tall  ash  that  near  our  cottage  stood.' 

She  lived  to  above  fourscore;  unmarried,  and  loving  her  young 
inmates  as  her  children,  and  beloved  by  them  as  a  mother. 

'  Childless,  yet  by  the  strangers  to  her  blood 
Honoured  with  little  less  than  filial  love.' 

Wordsworth's  Life,  vol.  i.  39. 

NOTE  14. — '  Sob  Roy's  grave  was  there.' — PAGE  229. 

Regarding  this  Wordsworth  says,  '  I  have  since  been  told  that 
I  was  misinformed  as  to  the  burial-place  of  Rob  Roy ;  if  so,  I  may 
plead  in  excuse  that  I  wrote  on  apparent  good  authority,  namely, 
that  of  a  well-educated  lady  who  lived  at  the  head  of  the  lake, 
within  a  mile  or  less  of  the  point  indicated  as  containing  the  re- 
mains of  one  so  famous  in  that  neighbourhood.' 

The  real  burial-place  of  Rob  Roy  is  the  Kirkton  of  Balquhidder, 
at  the  lower  end  of  Loch  Voil.  The  grave  is  covered  by  a  rude 
grey  slab,  on  which  a  long  claymore  is  roughly  engraved.  The 


316  NOTES. 

Guide-book  informs  us  that  the  arms  on  his  tombstone  are  a  Scotch 
pine,  the  badge  of  Clan  Gregor,  crossed  by  a  sword,  and  supporting  a 
crown,  this  last  to  denote  the  relationship  claimed  by  the  Gregarach 
with  the  royal  Stuarts.  When  I  last  saw  the  tombstone,  as  far  as 
I  remember,  I  observed  nothing  but  the  outline  of  the  long  sword. 

NOTE  15.—'  Thomas  Wilkinson's  "  Tour  in  Scotland."'— PACK  237. 

Probably  one  of  Wilkinson's  poems,  of  which  Wordsworth  speaks 
occasionally  in  his  letters.  '  The  present  Lord  Lonsdale  has  a  neigh- 
bour, a  Quaker,  an  amiable,  inoffensive  man,  and  a  little  of  a  poet 
too,  who  has  amused  himself  upon  his  own  small  estate  upon  the 
Emont,  in  twining  pathways  along  the  banks  qf  the  river,  making 
little  cells  and  bowers  with  inscriptions  of  his  own  writing.' — Letter 
to  Sir  G.  Beaumont,  Oct.  17,  1805. 

Wordsworth  wrote  the  poem  '  To  a  Spade  of  a  Friend,'  composed 
'  while  we  were  labouring  together  in  his  pleasure-grounds,'  com- 
mencing— 

'  Spade  with  which  Wilkinson  hath  tilled  his  land, 
And  shaped  these  pleasant  walks  by  Emont's  side,' 
in  memory  of  this  friend. — See  Life,  vol.  i  pp.  55,  323,  349. 


DISTANCES  FEOM  PLACE  TO  PLACE. 


Grasmere  to  Keswick,    . 
Hesket  Newmarket  (road  very 


Carlisle  (bad  road) 

Longtown  (newly  mended,  not 

good),      ....  8 

Annan  (good),        ...  14 

Dumfries  (good),    ...  15 

Brownhill  (pretty  good),        .  12 

Leadhills  (tolerable),      .        .  19 

Douglass  Mill  (very  bad),       .  12 

Lanark  (baddish),  ...  9 

Hamilton  (tolerable),     .        .  15 

Glasgow  (tolerable),       .        .  11 

Dumbarton  (very  good),         .  15 

Imss  (excellent),     ...  13 

Tarbet  (not  bad),   ...  8 

Arrochar  (good),    ...  2 

Cairndow  (middling),     .        .  12 

Inverary  (very  good),     .        .  10 

Dalmally  (tolerable),      .        .  16 

Taynuilt  (excellent),      .        .  13 

Portnacroish  (tolerable),         .  15 
Ballachulish  (part  most  excellent), 12 

King's  House  (bad)        .        .  12 

Tyndrum  (good),    ...  18 


MILES 

Suie  (road  excellent),  .        .  13 

Killin  (tolerable),  .  .  7 
Kenmore  (baddish),  .  .  15 
Blair  (bad),  ....  23 
Fascally  (wretchedly  bad),  .  18 
Dunkeld  (bad),  ...  12 
Ambletree  (hilly— good),  .  10 
Crieff  (hilly— goodish),  .  11 
Loch  Erne  Head  (tolerable),  20 
Callander  (most  excellent),  14 
Trossachs,  ....  16 
Ferryman's  House  (about  8),  8 
Callander  to  Falkirk  (bad- 
dish  road),  ...  27 
Edinburgh  (good),  .  .  24 
Roslin  (good),  ...  6 
Peebles  (good),  ...  16 
Clovenford  (tolerable), .  .  16 
Melrose  (tolerable),  .  .  8 
Dryburgh  (good)  ...  4 
Jedburgh  (roughish),  .  .  10 
Hawick  (good),  .  .  .  12 
Langholm  (very  good),  .  24 
Longtown  (good),  .  .  12 
Carlisle,  ....  8 
Grasmere,  ....  36 


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